An Unexpected Jour- Dwarf!
by AboveReality
Summary: As the 14th dwarf of the group, you had a lot to prove and a lot to swallow. Will you prevail in gaining Thorin & Co's trust? Or will the past get the upper hand and doom you all? [Thorin/OC] This story contains the Hobbit movie-verse, book-verse and my own twist here and there.
1. Chapter 01: The Final Guest

**Author's notes: **WARNING: This ficlet contains spoilers for the movie; The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, and the book. If you haven't seen or read it yet, prepare to be spoiled :)

Also: This ficlet contains different types of perception. Not only is it written in you-tense. But also in third person. Each and every 'switch' of perception (or a sudden change of scenery) is indicated by this little fellow: - .

For example:  
You were thinking, with a frown on your lips.

Bilbo saw Ayne's eyes growing distant and a frown pull at her lips. Perhaps she was thinking?

Anyways! I hope you guys enjoy this ficlet! :D (And that I stay in-character -.-") The first chapter is a prologue and I wish that you guys find it not to cheesy (and not too crappy) for you tast- Oooh! Cheese!

Note: This fanfic will be completely rewritten in third person after it is finished. Apparently doesn't like my writing style..

* * *

_Far over, the misty mountains cold.  
To dungeons deep, and caverns old.  
We must away, ere break of day.  
To find our long-forgotten gold._

_The pines were roaring, on the heights._  
_The winds were moaning, in the night._  
_The fire was red, its flaming spread._  
_The trees like torches, blazed with light._

Chapter 01: The Final Guest

Once upon a time there was a hole, not a dark and murky one, filled with cobwebs and other vermin. No, _this _was a Hobbithole. Which meant that it was warm, cosy and filled with good food and hospitality, at least when the Hobbit living there knew its guests. Now, it did not. Despite that, there was still good food!

You smirked to yourself when you walked past the small gate and walked on the cobble stones towards the marked front door. The lantern above it shone a warm and welcome light in your face. You almost felt bad for being so terribly and inexplicitly late, the night was growing older by the minute you stood here facing the closed, rounded, green door with Gandalf's mark on it.

Slowly you raised your gloved, petite hand –and knocked twice.

-

Bilbo looked up from his place against the wooden frame of his little hole. The dwarfs had holed up around the fire and began singing, oblivious to the knocking on his little green front door.

"Please, let there not be another one." He strongly wished to himself as he walked to the door, closing his small fingers around the round door knob in the middle. With a deep breath, the little hobbit wiggled his toes, wiggling courage into his heart as he slowly opened the door. Immediately someone stepped inside the moment the access to his little hole was granted.

"Pardon me, for being terribly and terribly late. I missed supper didn't I? Oh well, wasn't that hungry anyway. You are Bilbo Baggings right? Nice to meet you, I'm Ayne."

Bilbo blinked a couple of times, when his hand was grabbed by a similar appendage, but it didn't feel quite dwarf-like; tinier and more feminine. His eyes focused on the figure in front of him and took a few steps back, pulling his hand out of the grip of the dwarf in front of him.

He thought all dwarves were large and robust, this one proved quite to be the opposite. Namely; it was a woman, not broad and man-like as the rumours and legends went, but she was nicely proportioned and slim below the armour plates and hides that she wore. Her hair was a deep golden blond -_'Like my grandmother's jewellery-_', Bilbo thought_-_, pulled in a messy bun in the back of her neck. Bangs cover her forehead and some –that escaped the bun- framed her face or were pulled back behind her delicate ears.

She had no beard –according to legends-, but had a perfect smooth skin, with a few freckles here and there on her nose and rosy cheeks. Her eyes were a blue-greyish colour, twinkling with a delight, calmness and an inner fire that she radiated and made the little hobbit feel a bit more at ease than earlier. She grinned, showing a row of good, strong teeth in a delicious smile.

He was speechless.

-

"Uh.. eh. Huh?" The hobbit before you babbled, possibly overwhelmed. Causing you to giggle a bit, making the armour and fur you wore shake a bit by the movement. "You know, we're about the same height. Figured Hobbit's were tinier." You walked passed Bilbo, looking around the cosy hole and your eyes focused on the room, where the light of the fire flickered and a deep singing emerged from.

Your feet, stuck in sturdy leather boots, carried you to the door frame, the little hobbit at your heels, still stammering but eventually falling silent. You leaned against the door frame, listening to their –no _our_- song. Feeling your heart sink and making you swallow a hard lump that was stuck in your throat.

"The fire was red, it flaming spread. The trees like torches, blazed with light."

-

Bilbo listened to the woman sing, her voice was a bit rough around the edges, but still beautiful to his slightly pointed ears. Immediately dwarves stopped singing and looked up, noticing the woman standing in the doorframe.

"Ayne, by the gods." Balin muttered, his snow white beard twitching as he spoke and slowly walked towards the woman. A kind smile pulled up at her lips as she walked to the older dwarf. Balin cupped her face with his, whispered something in dwarfish with a wavering and emotional voice and then pulled her into a tight hug, which Ayne heart-warmingly returned to the slightly smaller dwarf.

"You came! I thought you were gone, vanished or worse! Where have you been all those years?"

The female dwarf slightly pulled back and stroked away a strand from his face and then stepped away. The grey cells in the little hobbit's head were starting to twist and turn. Who was this woman? He sensed there was a lot more to her than just a simple smile and the twinkle in her eyes.

"Everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Gandalf found me," her eyes met those of the wizard, whom smiled approvingly, "and told me of Thorin's plan. That's the reason I am here, I want to join."

Thorin straightened his back, his presence filling the room and took a few steps forward, his mind working behind his dark grey eyes. Bilbo suddenly felt like the tiny hobbit he was amidst all these powerful dwarves; skilled with crafts, weapons and tongue. What would he add to the group if he would join? He wasn't a fighter, nor the burglar they thought he was. He had never stolen a thing!

"And what would you have to offer Ayne[1], daughter of Aynúr? A sword or axe? We have plenty of that. A bow? We already have Kili-" the younger dwarf shifted uncomfortably on his seat, "So tell me why I would take _you_ with us?"The look on Thorin's face was one of pure disgust as he spat the name of the woman. Bilbo noticed that she had clenched her jaw and her beautiful eyes had darkened. Her whole form was tensed as he spoke at her like she was vermin. Then when he was finished she took a deep breath, straightened her back and walked towards the man, almost meeting him in height, but not in broadness. Making her seem very petite and fragile.

"I am a healer, can handle myself with a sword and at my best with my tongue and wit. Gandalf is probably not constantly at our side- you know how wizards are- so you need someone with medical knowledge and a clear view on the matter. One who isn't afraid of you or licking your heels, Thorin Oakenshield." Her words were sharp, making Thorin's brow twitch and the corner of his mouth pull at the _insult_.

"She is right, Thorin. Though she is not close kin and doesn't have your trust yet, she is a valuable asset as a healer and navigator, plus she can fight quite well." Gandalf offered, his brow pulled up, showing more wrinkles in his aged and wise face. Thorin grumbled at those words; "First a useless hobbit and now a traitor? You are really testing my faith in you, wizard."

"Yes or no? Don't come calling for me when you –or the rest- are mortally wounded if you say no, Thorin." Ayne bit at him, getting to the point. A heavy silence settled in the room, so heavy that our little hobbit could hear every breath taking and almost the grey cells between the ears, working in overdrive.

Finally it was broken.

"Very well, you can come, but you will have to pull your own weight and stay at the back. I don't want you in my sights." The dwarrow[2] prince briskly seethed, turning around and facing the fire once more. A small smile appeared on Ayne's face, making the seriousness dissolve. Bilbo finally had the feeling that he could breathe again –and so did the rest of the dwarves, judging by their faces- , now that the tension in the air ebbed away.

"But of course, Thorin. Oh, and don't worry; I brought my own transportation." She gave a small wink to Gandalf and was welcomed by the rest of their little merry group. Bilbo pulled himself back into the shadows, as Bofur gave Ayne slap on her shoulder, laughing with the rest when she told a joke that his hobbit's ear couldn't hear.

_'Did Thorin just call the woman a traitor? If so, then why did the rest treat the woman like their equal? Perhaps they didn't need me after all, now that they have her. Perhaps I could stay here at Bag End and live my life normally, unadventurous.'_

But why did our little hobbit not even believe himself?

* * *

Additional AN: [1]Ayne: A more fancy written version of 'Aine' that has a Gaelic and Celtic origin; meaning 'Brilliant, Happiness'.

Because in the LOTR-universe, and in our own past, names from the fathers were passed over to sons and daughters alike, but slightly changed. So, I found it fitting that her/your father was named 'Aynúr'.

[2] The correct pluralization of Dwarf in the works of J. R. R. Tolkien is noted to be Dwarrows or sometimes Dwerrows. Thus I have taken up this trait; sometimes calling the dwarves, 'dwarves' or 'dwarrow'.


	2. Chapter 02: Good bye

Chapter 02: Good bye

The morning had come very quickly. When the first glimpses of the sun were visible, you and the rest were already packed and saddling up the ponies. There were 15, including yours, aside from Gandalf's steed. With a fluid motion you got up on yours, a bay mare called Louise, and joined the group at the back. Keeping respectively your distance from everyone else.

It was thin ice you were walking one with your own dwarrow feet, stuck in the boar leathered boots, coated with fur on the inside. Your wit told you that they were glad that you were here –well most of them-, but you still had the feeling that you needed to prove yourself.

During the small ride out of the calm Shire, a sorrow feeling besieged your heart. The leather of your gloves groaned when you tightened your hold on the reins of dear, sweet Louise and looked back over your shoulder. The light of the sun were just grazing the flourish green hills and birds were waking up, caressing your ears with their songs.

This was a home to the little hobbit folk. One that you could never have.

"Ayne! Stop dreaming and hurry up!" Nori yelled at you, waking you from your little daydream and you spurred on Louise to catch up with them.

"What a waste of time. We should have never have come here." Dori muttered, scratching his short grey beard –that already turned whiter with each year- almost ruining the cool braids that he had. Bofur shrugged, the tips of his hat moving. "Too bad, I liked that fellow."

"Well, I think that he is going to come anyway. Did you see the doubt in his eyes?" Little Ori chirped, turning the page from the book that he was reading whilst little Daisy, his black steed, was calmly following the others.

"Why don't we place a bet?" Òin offered, his dark grey beard barely moving whilst he spoke. The two symmetrical braids as perfect as ever. Dwalin looked back, the tattooed skin that hugged his skull, slightly wrinkling.

"A bet? Of course do place a damn bet! Hey everyone! Who bets that Bilbo is coming?" A few 'Ai!' were heard and hands were stuck in the air. The corner of your mouth pulled upwards that Gandalf was one of the few that agreed on the matter. "Who bets that Bilbo isn't coming?" Again a few nods and hands went up the air.

"Thirty silver on who's right!" Bofur yelled, agreeable sounds were heard. His pony whinnied and shook his head, probably disapproving on the matter.

_'Dork.'_

"Say Ayne, you haven't stuck up your hands on either matter. Share." Kili had fallen back to ride beside you, like his brother Fili, who now rode on your right.

"I don't have a say in the matter, so why would I have to pick a side? I like it right here on the neutral ground." You chirped. "Besides, Thorin also didn't vote." Shrugging you clacked your tongue at sweet little Louise and for a minute or two it was silent, until you heard something.

"Wait! Wait for me! Wait!"

The party stopped, and there he was. The little Bilbo Baggings running down the hill, with his bare hobbit feet, as fast as he could. Waving the contract in the air. Finally, he joined up, heaving and sweat pearling on his brow that he quickly wiped with his sleeve.

"I- I signed it! I agreed, I'm going with you." He spoke, whilst he tried to slow down his breathing as his cheeks were flustered. Gandalf could see Ayne chuckle a bit when Thorin looked back and rolled his eyes –disappointed perhaps? Balin took the contract, gave a look and then smiled approvingly. "Welcome to Thorin and Company, Mr. Baggings." Thorin sighed in annoyance.

"Give him a horse." The dwarrow briskly growled and turned around, focusing ahead and moving again.

"A horse? N-no! I- I can keep up with you walking!" Despite Bilbo's sputtering he was lifted by Bofur and Dwalin and set on a horse called Myrtle. Clueless he held the reins as they walked, not sure what to do with them or hold them. So he held them up so that dear Myrtle wouldn't get constricted in it.

Someone started to ride next to him and he looked up into greyish-blue. Ayne chuckled and had let go of her own reins. "Keep them like this, reins a bit shorter –yes that's it- and your fists up, otherwise your arms will cramp." Bilbo followed her gently instructions and then felt a leather gloved hand ruffling his ginger curls. She smiled at him, her cheeks a bit rosy and a strand dangling in front of her face.

"Don't forget to relax and enjoy the world." With those words she dropped back and started to chat a bit with Ori and Bombur. Eventually she fell silent and fell back as last one of their little merry group as the silent guardian, engulfed in her thoughts.

"Ey, Nori! Pay up!" Gloin growled out of nowhere. The dark ginger blond dwarf called Nori, with the distinctive star-shaped hair, reached down into in his pack and started to throw bags of coins here and there.

Gandalf chuckled when Bilbo asked what they were doing when bags of coins were tossed about. "They placed a bet whether you would come or not." Dori caught a small pouch and grinned, as well as Dwalin. Bilbo raised a suggestive eyebrow. "And what did you bet?" he cautiously drawled.

Without blinking Gandalf caught a little pouch and let it slip into the bag that he wore around his waist. "I have quite the faith in you," the old wizard chuckled, as they rode on.

-

After several hours they stopped for the night, fed the horses and laid down the bedrolls after Gloin had started a fire. The place where the party had camped was a small rocky enclave, at the edge of the vast forest that was before you. It deemed Thorin wise not to spent the night in the village Bree, a few hours travelling behind them, since people would start to wonder why a band of 14 dwarves, a wizard and moreover; a hobbit, are travelling together and for what purpose.

That was the main reason that you were now leaning against a pine tree, your blanket tightly wrapped around you and your eyes watching the dancing flames from a distance as the scent of fresh roasted meat wafted up your nostrils. You still remained a bit secluded from the group, hanging between them and the pony's as the band was scurried around the fire. Bilbo seemed in deep conversation with Balin, whom explained to him Thorin's hatred for Orcs. Thorin had walked passed you, without even glancing, and stood still in front of the ponies. Watching the dark horizon.

He was a man who had known battle as no other. Trying to fight Moria free, whilst Dwarrow soldiers fell by the numbers. His grandfather was beheaded and with nothing more than an oaken shield he charged at the pale orc Azog, severing his arm with a single swipe and turning the tide of the battle, making them win.

You buried yourself in your blanket, still wearing your armour for good reasons, showing only the top half of your face. Your eyes focussing on nothing particular on the forest floor as you listened to them talking.

-

"During that battle I saw him transform. From a prince into a king, and one that I would blindly follow." The voice of old Balin was filled with pride as he watched the dwarrow prince's back. The fire playing with the fur the dwarf wore on his back.

"Dear master dwarf, I have one more question." The little hobbit gently inquired softly, not wanting to disturb the old dwarrow. Balin smiled and nodded. "Of course, ask." Bilbo looked for a moment at Thorin and then back at Ayne, who seemed completely secluded.

"What is that about Ayne and Thorin? He had called her 'traitor' and seems to ignore her like thin air." The corner of Balin's mouth twitched a bit as he smiled half-heartedly, he seemed uncomfortable, which made Bilbo feel a bit sorry for his question since the rest of the company also shifted in their seats.

"Well.. I'm not sure-" The old dwarf started, but was interrupted by Thorin, who had come back from his little spot with dark steely eyes. "That is because her father Aynúr sided with Azog with his clan. Despite the decapitation of his _king_, he fought against _us_, escaping my wrath. She followed him willingly."

Bilbo noticed that there was so much hatred in Thorin's voice as he pointed at Ayne, sitting there lonely against the pine tree and watching the ponies. The hobbit was sure that she could hear him, but she did nothing to proof him wrong. Bilbo wasn't sure what to make of this, because he really liked her. She was sweet, oddly graceful for a dwarf and patient, unlike some of this merry band. Perhaps there was darker side to her that he hadn't met yet. Bilbo doubted it.

"I watched you all converse with her, treating her like one of our own. She is not; she is just part of this company because she has a value in skill, one that we can't miss, unfortunately. I don't want any of you treating her like kin, understood?" The merry band of dwarves nodded, slowly, uncertain, but they agreed to their leader albeit half-heartedly, judging by some faces.

-

Gandalf lurked at his pipe, his furry grey brows pressed together as he watched from the dwarrow prince, whom barked against his group, to you, sitting on your own and quietly watching the ponies. Your ears trying to block out everyone and engulf yourself in your thoughtless mind, where it was quiet and peaceful.

The old wizard never told Thorin, or anyone for that matter, how he had found you, nor in what shape. He made a promise to you, and he was a man of his word.

* * *

AN: Finally we are getting somewhere. The next chapter will be WAAY longer. Got a little carried away, hehe ;)


	3. Chapter 03: Roar

Chapter 03: Roar

_A scream ruptured from your blood coated lips as white hot pain sore through your body, originating from your back. Your hands were bound above your head, holding your weight as you bare and bloodied toes barely grazed the ground._

Sadistic laughter erupted from behind you as something cold and sharp grazed the naked skin of your back, effectively peeling it away. Your eyes grew wide when a pale and cold hand slid down from your neck to the peeled skin and took a hold off it. Then there was a large tuck, emitting nauseating pain straight up into your brain and blinding you with it.

Someone was screaming in your ear, when a blade came into your vision from behind and dragged down your upper body, effectively cutting the skin as your dark red blood seeped out of the long cut –that pulled straight through other ones- and started to coat your pale skin.

Something nudged your feet hard, causing you to groan as the screaming got louder. Finally it started to form words.

"Wa- p!"

"Wah- up!"

"Hey! Wake up!"

Dwalin went to nudge you with the nose of his boot again against your feet, when you suddenly stopped it with your own and opened your eyes. "I'm awake.. " you drawled, rubbing the sand out of your eyes and leaning forward and away from the 'cosy' pine tree, drawing up your legs and stretching your arms forward. "What time is it?"

"Time to leave. Everything's already packed and everyone is already mounted. Now shut up and move your ass!" The scary dwarrow warrior growled at you, his thick brows making his eyes grow dark as he stomped away briskly, muttering a "Women!". As quick as you could with your very stiff body (let's just say that pine trees weren't meant to sleep against), you rolled up your blanket, stuffed it in your back and jumped straight onto your pony, with a bit of a pale and still sleepy face.

"Finally." Thorin growled, his annoyance quite evident in his voice. "Everybody let's go!"

When the party was moving for a good ten minutes, your stomach started to growl. You narrowed your eyes at the realization that you had barely eaten a thing yesterday night and was now also withheld breakfast. Why didn't they wake you sooner?!

During the ride, Gandalf had tossed you an apple to munch on, which you greedily did. But something didn't quite add up; it looked like the group had followed up Thorin's orders and were now treating you colder or at least tried to aside from a small joke here and there. The only one who seemed not caring was Bofur, the joyful fellow with his crazy hat and braids.

As the party was progressing he often made a joke here and then –especially with his brother Bombur- keeping the spirits up and keeping us oddly positive about this whole ominous journey. He and his brother made you often laugh and bring up your mood a bit. Man, you were turning into Thorin!

Finally there was a small break a little past noon. You helped Fili and Kili tying the ponies to a tree near camp after counting them and glanced around. The forest was nice, flourishing green. You could hear a creek flowing nearby and was suddenly reminded of how _awful_ you smelled. You smelled of old sweat, leather and metal. An idea popped up in your mind.

-

Bilbo looked up when he saw Ayne come up at him, her body armour missing, revealing her slightly baggy male undershirt of dark red linen and more of her legs clothed in a male leather pants –which was also a size or two too big. Despite this, there were curves visible here and there, evidently making her look quite feminine.

"Hey, Bilbo. Do you want to do a favour for me?" The hobbit's eyes quickly met her own, travelling from her sturdy black leather shoes straight to her face. He stood up from his little cushion of moss.

"Y-yes, of course! Ask." He quickly muttered and straightened his jacket, his mouth twitching and arching an eyebrow.

"Well, it isn't something big. But there is a small creek over there and I really need to bathe. Can you keep an eye out that someone isn't heading to that direction? You are quite good with words I imagine and you seem quite the gentleman, that I can trust you with this." Ayne gave the little hobbit a wink. Bilbo's cheeked pinked just a little bit, causing Ayne to chuckle as his mouth opened and closed. "Don't worry; Gandalf is also trying to keep everyone occupied with his map."

"O-of course! Sure! Good luck! Have fun.. bathing." Bilbo uncomfortably muttered, bowing awkwardly at the lady. The female dwarf gave him a soft ruffle through his ginger curls after a soft giggle from her side. Bilbo watched her turn around and walk through the trees and bushes to the soft creek. Though she was unarmoured she wasn't unarmed, his hobbit eyes could see a dagger dangling on her belt.

"Hey Bilbo!" A voice yelled, causing the little fellow to jump a good 4 inches with his hobbit feet from the ground as he turned around like a whip. Bofur grinned at him and handed him an apple. "Here had a spare one. Why so jumpy, master Hobbit?" His heavily accented voice chirped as he took a good bite from his own. His dark brown eyes glancing around briefly. "Say, where's Ayne?"

"She uh.. She's gathering some wood?" Bilbo hesitantly asked. "One her own? Where did she go? Ayne!" Bilbo quickly hushed the dwarf. "She- uh. She is that way," he pointed at the opposite direction where Ayne had disappeared into, "but she doesn't want to be disturbed, something like; 'I need to think'. You know how women are."

Bofur pressed his lips together as his brows furrowed and whilst he nodded in agreement. "You're right. They say no hell is worse than a woman's fury –or something like that. Well, we are going to look for her if she isn't back within thirty minutes. Say, are you still going to eat your apple?"

Bilbo then furiously prayed that the blasted woman would come back, as quickly as she could. But damn him and his need to 'help out'. It was going to get him killed some day.

-

The water was icy cold, but strangely refreshing as you stepped in the waist deep water. The stream was crystal clear, since it came from the mountains, and almost seemed to be dug by hand, judging by how you had to climb to get in and out of the stream. You snatched from a small pouch on the grass, that you had brought with you, a scrub and started to rinse your skin from dirt, blood and other things that you were afraid to mention or even think about- was that a booger?

During your bathe, little fish scooted past your legs and downstream in all range of colours. It was a tickling sensation, causing you to flinch and chuckle at some moments and shriek in delight in the next. As time progressed, you noticed that the birds had fallen silent and the fish had disappeared.

A sense of danger slowly settled in your gut when you crawled out of the water, drops of water gliding down your smooth skin and dripping from your hair. Your bare fingers closed around the hilt of your sword and raised it. The forest had completely grew silent, like it was completely deprived from life or holding its breath.

Then a twig snapped behind you. Causing you twirl around and point your sword forward, as you stood you ground in all your nakedness.

"Who's there? Show yourself!"

A deep growl was heard, causing you to swallow thickly as your face paled a few shades.

"Shit."

-

Bilbo was fidgeting with his jacket. About thirty minutes had passed and the dwarrow were starting to wonder where the heck Ayne was. Gandalf shot the little hobbit a reassuring look and then smooth talked to Thorin.

"I am sure she is coming very soon. Her horse and pack is still with us, so she couldn't have gone far." The old wizard spoke. Thorin's dark grey eyes met those of the Maiar. He briskly moved forward and snapped at him. "For all we know, she could have vanished, trying to trap us when we move again and killing us so then she can claim the mountain for her own! We should never have brought her!"

"She would do no such thing-!" Gandalf barked back at the dwarrow prince, his giant pointy hat wobbling dangerous on his head, but was cut off by Ori running and screaming. "She's over by the creek! There's a giant bear almost ripping her apart, we have to help her!"

"Everybody arms!" Thorin growled, unsheathing his sword and taking the lead with Ori.  
With those words the dwarves left the horses and their camp for what it was and ran in the direction Ori had pointed. Loud growling and feminine grunts, grew louder and louder as they reached their point of destination.

-

You had run straight to the bear, butt-naked if it weren't for your linen shirt, your sword ready to lash out as the bear also took a sprint towards you. Suddenly you had let yourself fall down and slide under the bear, tearing its belly open. Mad with pain, the giant beast roared and slashed wildly around him. Suddenly you felt his paw catching you and with a swift, but powerful throw you were thrown on the ground, knocking all the air out of you and causing you to lose the grip on your sword as it was flung in the river.

The bear loomed over you. Blood spilling from the gash in his stomach, with something fleshy piling out, and dripping on you. He leaned in, the large row of teeth covered with saliva coming closer and closer. You smelled its sweaty breath as it fanned on your face. Then suddenly it was gone and you looked up, seeing the great bear on its hind legs and paw up, ready to give a killing blow.

"Kili! Make the beast bleed with your arrows! Everyone attack!"

The bear stammered on its hind legs when you could see arrows embed themselves in the thick black fur. Dwalin threw himself against its side when he wielded his two identical axes, causing it to move away from you. Two pair of hands, small and large, grabbed you by the arms and hoisted you quickly away from the fight. A dark grey mantle was draped over you as you were settled against a nearby tree, shivering and covered in the blood of the big bear.

Just as quickly as the fight had begun, it was over. Bofur, Òin, Gloin and Dori had severed the tendrils of its legs and forced the beast down. A final roar was heard, but cut off when Thorin decapitated its enormous head with his mighty sword, kicking it in the lake with a grunt. Heaving, everyone sheathed their weapons and thought the worst part was over, until Thorin made it your way.

-

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Bilbo fell on his knees beside the bloodied female dwarf. Was it her own blood or that of the bear? Her wet hair was tangled and messy, because of the fight that seemed like seconds ago. She didn't react to him but her brilliant blue-grey eyes stared straight ahead at the approaching Thorin Oakenshield, whose body language screamed anger and rage.

"What the hell were you thinking?! Wandering off like the manipulative traitor, that you are!" He roared against her. Gandalf placed a hand on the shoulder of Thorin that he briskly shook off. "Thorin, I am sure there is no-" he was rudely interrupted by the dwarf. "I don't want to hear a thing of you Gandalf, let her speak for her own filthy hide." The dwarrow prince barked, looking up and down the woman.

Bilbo startled when with a sudden movement Ayne stood up, one of her hands clutching the grey robes that covered her lithe body, preventing it from falling off. "Thorin, I was bathing.. There was no-"

"Lies! I know you are trying to trick us, lure us in some trap to try and finish us off. Just like your father did-"

"I did no-!"

"Dwalin, take her weapons, just in case she decides to kill us in our sleep. Do not give a thing. Bofur, watch over her at all times."

"Hey! I-"

"Everyone move out. We are done here."

"THORIN OAKENSHIELD! JUST LISTEN!"

Bilbo's little hobbit feet jumped a few inches in the air as he was startled by the sudden magnitude of Ayne's voice. Her face contorted with anger and her teeth bare. It almost made her look like some feral beast. She walked towards the concerning dwarf and faced him for a few moments silently, the dwarf glared back at her with the same intensity and was unmoving. Then her face suddenly fell, almost growing years older on the spot and Bilbo could now see her age and experience being reflected in those brilliant eyes, as well as sorrow.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was small, almost a whisper as her eyes tore themselves away from intense steel grey and glanced down at her feet, shame washing over her body as she seemed to shrink in Gandalf's grey robes wrapped around her body. Our little hobbit shifted uncomfortably from hairy foot to hairy foot. His ginger curls swaying slightly in the movement.

Thorin breathed deeply through his nostrils as he continued to glare down at the woman. Bilbo could sense it wasn't a sorry because she yelled at him, but because of something else, something much deeper. Perhaps something that had yet to come?

"You are nothing but lies, just like Aynúr. Everyone move out, we are going to break up camp and head deeper in the forest to the west. Bofur, stay with her and make sure she doesn't run late." With that the prince turned around briskly and stomped his way back through the bushes to their campsite.

-

"Damn him." You whispered softly to yourself, your fists tight and jaw clenched as you watched the party wordlessly turned around, trading glances here and there and followed their leader. Bofur walked up to you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Well, you heard him. Clean that blood of your face and get dressed. I will wait here." His voice was filled with pity, the type that you didn't quite welcomed, but was nice and kind in a way. Despite the tension he still tried to smile and cheer you up a bit, winking at you.

Slowly you nodded and walked back to the creek, washing the blood of your body quite quickly. Your eyes tried to spot where you sword was, but it was gone. Probably engulfed by the water and carried down-stream.

With a heavy heart you strode next to Bofur back to camp. This was going to be a _long_ journey.


	4. Chapter 04: Fire

**Author's Note:** I bloody hated this chapter. It was so frustrating to write the many dialogues and still keep a bit of focus on Ayne/you. Thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, a wizard, the main character and three trolls took their toll on me. I hope it's not too crappy.

BUT thank you guys for the encouraging reviews! I love it!

* * *

Chapter 04: Fire

You felt muzzled, chained and bound with your hands. You had come to this journey to help Thorin with his quest, to give him back the honour of his people that he had lost to Smaug the Terrible, due to his own grandfather's greed.

A fear crept inside your heart as you watched the dwarves in camp. Bombur was stirring the giant pot above a fire, the sweet smell of rabbit stew wafting up your nostrils as everyone had laid down their bedrolls and were checking their packs for supplies or sharpened their weapons. Fili and Kili had been in charge to watch over the ponies. Since Gandalf had left the party, sputtering about Thorin being a hard headed dwarf, he was, everyone had been a little on edge and more alert. Even the little hobbit.

Bofur shifted next to you as his stomach evidently growled. "Come on Bombur! Finish the stew already, I'm starving over here!" He drawled, pretending to be cramping as he held his tummy and writhed before he jumped up and walked over, trying to stop Bombur to eat everything himself.

The tension of little incident between you and Thorin earlier this day, had dwindled a bit as everyone had settled a bit. Your eyes tracked Dwalin as he picked a seat with a bowl of stew, you could see your weapons –consisting out of two small daggers, since you lost your sword in the lake- lying next to him. An unwelcome feeling rose up in your gut as the wind howled, causing the giant trees above your heads to sway and rustle.

"Perhaps Gandalf was right; perhaps we shouldn't have camped here." You muttered softly when you pulled up your knees and hugged them. Tearing your eyes off Dwalin and to your feet. No one had spoken about your little half-naked wrestling match with the bear, and good for them too. It would be bad for their health if they dropped even a hint of the subject. You still had your hands attached to your limps and weren't afraid to use them. Nonetheless, you felt quite naked and vulnerable without your weapons and especially without your precious sword.

"Well, good luck to try and convince Thorin. It's not so bad here, though. Nice shelter, warm food and a good strategic setting." Bofur muttered as he let himself fall down beside you, pushing a bowl of warm stew in your hands.

Thanking the dwarf you greedily ate the contents of the bowl. "Perhaps you're right, perhaps I am just a little on edge," you muttered as you lapped at the spoon. Even though you had no weapons, you were quite a nuisance to Thorin and a bit withheld from the group, the food was quite nice and lifted up not only your spirit but also that of the rest.

Your eyes glanced around camp, whilst you enjoyed the hot stew that filled your stomach. Bofur was now chatting to his cousin, Bifur. Who conversed only via Khuzdul, grunts or gestures. Everyone suspected that his speech was damaged due to that Orc's axe stuck inside his skull. It was a wonder that it had healed up quite nicely around and didn't fester.

They settled on the little Hobbit, whom was pushed two bowls of stew in his hand to give to Fili and Kili. The hobbit nodded, and walked carefully through the bushes to where the ponies were stalled and then disappeared.

The three brothers Nori, Dori and Ori were seated together as Ori was story telling from something out of his book, also captivating the ears of Òin, whilst his brother Gloin was trying to keep the fire burning, discussing the recipe of the stew with Bombur. Dwalin was sharpening his weapons in a rhythmic fashion, betraying that he was sunken deep in his thoughts whilst his older brother Balin was conversing with Thorin a bit to the side.

Suddenly you laid down your bowl and stood up. Gaining the attention of Bofur sitting next to you as he spoke: "Ayne? What is it?" You rose up your hand to silence him. For a few moments there was nothing and then you could heard the noises of snapping twigs and rustling of leaves coming from the bushes, it was coming closer and closer. Then out of the blue; Fili and Kili rushed out of the bushes, breathing heavy and sputtering words.

"Bilbo.. trolls.. ponies." Kili began, wiping the sweat from his brow.

You walked up quickly and placed a hand on the man's shoulders. "Easy, take deep breathes. What about Bilbo? Did you say trolls?" This gained the attention of everyone in the group. Some standing up, others stayed seated with worried faces. Fili was the first one to recover, pushing strands of his ginger blond hair out of his face.

"Bilbo, he's captured by three trolls, whilst he tried to get back two ponies of ours; Daisy and Myrtle," he heaved. A curse left your lips and Thorin flung up, grabbing his weapon. He walked up to the two young dwarves, almost pushing you to the side.

"Show us. Everyone lets go!" The two brothers nodded and drew their weapons, their faces tight as adrenaline started to surge through their veins. Thorin followed them, but was then suddenly halted by your hand on his shoulder. He briskly turned around, effectively shaking the hand from his fur covered and armoured shoulder.

"Give me a weapon, I can help."

Thorin's steel eyes were glowing intimidating as he straightened himself, making you feel small and tiny even though you almost matched him in height, but not quite in broadness. "No, you don't. We can handle it on our own. Stay here at the camp and don't you dare to escape, woman" His harsh words made you seethe in anger as he turned around and left you standing right there. You had never ever met such a bull headed man!

Then you felt your gloved hand being grasped and something cold and heavy pushed in it. Your head snapped to the side as you saw Balin pushing a blade in your hands, one of his own. "Let's go, Ayne." The old dwarf whispered, conjuring a small smile on your lips and you nodded fiercely and followed the rest of the company into the bushes, your fingers tightly closed around the weapon.

Thorin slowly gestured the group to halt for just a moment. One of the trolls snatched Bilbo up by one foot and licked his lips. "Hmn! He looks quite tasty!" The troll growled. A foul smell wafted into your nose, making you almost cringe and gag. You were not the only one, judging by some of the dwarrow faces.

"Let's eat him!" Another troll said, already reaching behind to grab his skinning knife. With a roar, Thorin commanded the attack. Everyone screamed at the top of their lungs, lashing out to the trolls that were enormous when you looked right up at them. The adrenaline that coursed thickly through your veins caused you to continue the attack, though.

You managed to get your sword slice through the ankle of one, causing him to yelp but also to kick around. A grunt left your lips when the troll had hit your stomach, causing you to fly back and straight into a nearby tree, knocking the wind out of your lungs.

Dwarves were thrown everywhere as they jump and assaulted the Trolls; it was pure chaos. Slowly you had managed to get upon your feet and gather with the rest of the dwarves. Your ears heard Bilbo yelp and like a whip your head snapped up as Kili gasped. "Bilbo! Let him go!"

The young dwarf took a daring step forward, but was stopped by Thorin from walking further towards the trolls. The reason why, was that two of them each held poor Bilbo by his arms and legs. They chuckled, licking their cracked and filthy lips with a fleshy and slimy tongue.

"One step closer an' we'll tear off 'is arms an' legs!" The 'smarter' one cried. Both trolls tightened their grip on the little hobbit, whom groaned slightly, to prove their point. The third one chuckled, clutching a number of linen bags in one of his fists, whilst in the other a skinning knife shined in the faint light of the bonfire.

Thorin made for a short moment eye contact with the terrified little hobbit. With a grunt he settled his sword inside the soil. The rest of the dwarves hesitantly followed his example, slowly but steady. A rage woke up inside you as you threw down your sword and clenched your fists in frustration. Damn them!

For a short moment's notice, everyone was stripped from their weapons and armour, only to be allowed in their underclothing as they were forced in bags that covered their bodies, except the heads. You were one of the few not to be tied to the spit roaster and felt like some kind of worm as you wriggled there in your sack, trying to untie yourself –alas with no success.

The trolls started to think about how they should eat us; the older one suggesting to spice and roast us, instead of smashing us into jelly –what apparently the younger one suggested, but the third one moaned that they had to be quick before sunrise. Suddenly Bilbo hopped on his little feet, wriggling a bit in his sack and looked up to the giant trolls, whom were apparently called Bert, Tom and Willem.

"Spice us? With parsley? You've got to be joking!" Bilbo suddenly cried, gaining the attention of the trolls. "You can prepare us differently, you know," he hesitantly muttered. The troll called Tom leaned in, bearing his rotten teeth and seethed.  
"What does this little dwarf know about cooking? HA!"

"Let him speak! Tell us little burglar-hobbit. What do you have in mind?" The 'smarter' one chuckled as he turned the spit where the rest of the dwarves were bound in, wriggling and groaning, trying to get out or at least loosen themselves.

Our little hobbit looked behind to the rest of us and shrugged. "Well.. Why not skin them?" This simple statement evoked a lot of reaction. The dwarves on the spit yelped 'Hey!' as Kili wrestled beside you in his bag, screaming "Traitor!" Dwalin pointed at the little hobbit from his place at the spit as they were turned round and round. "I'll get you, worm! You'll pay!"

At this you could see Bilbo swallow thickly and his mouth twitch a bit nervously. The trolls laughed, the fat on their belly's shaking so hard that a few warts busted open, the pus of it oozing out of the small wounds and adding an extra odour to the foul creatures, almost causing your eyes to water and your stomach to lurch.

"Skin them? You've got to be joking. I've eaten Men with skin and even boots!" The one called Bert roared, still shaking with laughter. The younger one called Tom then suddenly picked you up by the feet, nearly crushing them between his thumb and finger as he lifted you upside down.

"Yeah! I quite like them raw; nice and crunchy!" At this you were lifted high up the air above the creature's foul mouth, your hair almost falling out of its bun whilst the blood rose to your head. The troll licked his lips and spared open wide. A panic rose up in you as you started to wriggle. "Shit, shit, shit!" You squeaked, as you were slowly lowered into the foul smelling crevice of the monster.

"No! Not that one! She's filled with worms.. in her tubes!" Bilbo hastily yelped, causing Tom to pull a nasty face and fling you away with an "Ew!". Landing quite ungraceful on the rest of the bagged dwarrow, your head colliding with Thorin's chest and your legs landing quite painfully in Bombur's stomach, eliciting some curses here and there. Bilbo wasn't finished speaking though; "Actually, they are all filled with worms and parasites! Quite unhealthy!"

Kili groaned in protest, as like the other dwarves that were acting quite angry and insulted. "Hey! I don't have worms! Bilbo!" Then you felt Thorin's chest below your head stop for just a moment and his body growing rigid, as the great dwarrow prince realized –and you just about the same time- that Bilbo was actually buying them time till.. "Daylight," you whispered so softly that only the rest of the dwarves could hear you.

Thorin gave Kili and the rest a hard nudge with their feet, instantly getting them realized that Bilbo was saving us. "I'm filled with worms!" Kili quickly yelled, "I got worms as big as my arms!" Growled Òin straight after Kili. The trolls seemed to be a bit disturbed by this fact and the one turning the spit stopped his movement and walked forward towards Bilbo.

"Do you now? And what would you have me do with them burglar-hobbit? Release them?" His big booming voice showing hints of anger and disbelief. The hobbit's mouth pulled to one side as he pulled up his shoulders, his body language already a bit hinting towards the answer.

"Well..-" he was cut off brutally by the large troll in front of him.

"You think we're stupid don't you! You think I don't know what you are doing!" He roared, his voice rising as the realisation had hit him that the little hobbit was fooling him the entire time. He should smash them! Squash them!

Just as the troll reached out for Bilbo, to grab him and crush him to death, a sudden figure jumped up a giant boulder behind the trolls. It wore a very distinctive hat, causing your eyes to light up and conjure a smile on your lips. The trolls looked up a bit puzzled. "Say, can we eat him too?" The younger one muttered, pointing at Gandalf.

"Dawn take you all and stone be with you!" The wizard hauntingly called as his raised his staff and with a sharp movement, pierced the boulder, causing it to split clean off and the light of the rising sun to shine on the trolls.

They screamed, shielding their arms in front of their eyes, trying to evade the sunlight that was turning their bodies slowly to stone. You laid there, amazed of the transformation that was forming before your very eyes; the trolls turning in stone statues in just a matter of seconds.

"Gandalf!" Bilbo sighed, relieved to see the wizard. The rest laughed, the tension of the situation gently dripping away as you raised yourself in a seated position as Gandalf helped everyone to escape out of the sacks.

After everyone was freed, armoured and bore their weapons –except you-, Thorin walked over to Gandalf. "Where have you been?" The intonation of his words seemed carefully chosen as he fastened a belt around his waist. The large wizard chuckled, "Looking ahead." But Thorin wasn't satisfied with that.

"Why have you returned?" He asked quickly, stopping the wizard from walking away. You could see their eyes meet and suddenly you could see something form between the two, something called mutual respect.

"I was looking behind," the old wizard muttered amusingly at the dwarrow prince. Giving him a slight wink with the merry twinkling eyes of his. "Come! Trolls haven't gone so far south since the darker times in the past. There must be a cave nearby."

After a few hours of searching Bifur growled something, gesturing to the large crevice he had found in the rock. Gandalf smiled, eliciting a small delighted "Ah!" as he entered with Thorin, Bilbo, Bifur, Bofur and Gloin. Meanwhile you stood your ground at the entrance of the cave, a worried and nervous look plastered on your face as your eyes sharply darted from tree to tree. Your hands slid to your belt, only to be reminded again that you had no sword. A curse left your lips.

_'They are coming.'_


	5. Chapter 05: Hunt

**Author's note: **Oeh.. what's going to happen? :3 I was like: ah WTH, when I wrote _that_part. I guess I wanted some fluff to happen xD! By the way; I adore Radagast, he is so my favorite wizard!

Warning: Angst/death

* * *

Chapter 05: Hunt

"There is no greater courage, then know when to spare alive. Instead to take one." Bilbo could hear Gandalf's words echo in his very being as he held the elven sword that Gandalf had given to him, in his hands when everyone had gathered to a close group.

"Something's coming!" Thorin roared, but before they had time to even neither realize his words nor prepare, a large object burst out of the bushes. The figure that stood on it was slightly panicky as he jumped of his _rabbit_-pulled sled and hurried to Gandalf.

"Gandalf! Gandalf!"

The grey wizard introduced everyone by the newcomer by calling his name. "Radagast the Brown! Why are you here?" Bilbo's ginger-coloured brows furrowed; _The _Radagast the Brown? He had heard legends of him, hiding in the forests to the east and protecting it with his knowledge and magic. It appeared that a lot of legends he had read in his books were getting real.

Bilbo left the wizards converse as he munched one a little piece of bread, his little hobbit feet carrying him almost soundlessly to the rest of the company, whom were also having breakfast. His eyes settled on Ayne, standing a bit separated to the group with her eyes staring straight ahead of her.

Her eyes were dark as a serious frown, aged her face significantly. Her arms were crossed, one gloved hand stroking the smooth skin of her chin, almost contemplating. The moment Bilbo saw that she noticed him, her face changed instantly as if someone draped a cloth over it. She smiled at him and walked up.

"Hey Bilbo, I have wanted to thank you; for being the wittiest of us all and buy us time with the trolls." She said it in such a caring fashion, the little hobbit scratched the back of his head and shifted from foot to foot. "Well, it was of no problem. I just did what it seemed right at the time-," he started, but was interrupted by a large wolf howl.

His hobbit ears immediately perched as he stammered back. "What's that a wolf? Are there wolves here?" His voice squeaked, trembling by the fear that was enkindled by another howl. He noticed Ayne move towards Thorin immediately, her movements fast and quick.

Bofur stammered in line next to Bilbo, his hands grabbing his pickaxe so tight, that his knuckles turned white. "T-that was not a wolf, Bilbo." He whispered and now Bilbo was definitely and officially scared, since the dwarf seemed to have paled a few shades out of pure terror.

-

"Give me a weapon, so I can defend myself," you demanded, holding up your hand. The moment the steel eyes of the dwarrow prince had settled on you and his mouth opened to bark, you had cut him off. "For god's sake Thorin! If I wanted to kill you, I would have already done it! Now give me a god damn weapon!" You yelled, your voice rising a for octaves as you stepped forward so close that your heaving chest almost met his.

A storm was raging in his grey eyes as the prince stared right at you, his mind working and weighing the words you chose carefully, when suddenly someone shouted the one thing you –nor anyone for that matter- did not want to hear.

"WARG!"

A large howl came from the throat of the beast above the company, as it stormed down the mountain right at you and Thorin. The dwarf shoved you to the side with quite some force, causing you to lose your footing and land quite ungraceful on the forest floor. You crawled away just in time for the body of the beast just slumped down, where you were standing mere moments ago, when it was beheaded by the same hands that pushed you, now wielding his new found elven sword from the troll caves.

As if the rolling head of the Warg was some type of que, another one jumped straight out of the bushes. Landing quite successfully on your chest and knocking the wind out of your lungs. Only to refill them and scream when you felt its jaws close around your right shoulder.

"AAHH!"

The eyes in your head rolled backwards, when you felt its enormous teeth sink right in your skin and flesh and intense pain flared through your body. The canines were effectively tearing muscle and tendons when the beast started to tear and thrash its giant head around. But the sheer force of the bite caused your shoulder blade and some of your ribs to be crushed and broken in a painful matter, setting sparks of white alight in your head.

This had happened in only a matter of a few seconds as you squirmed underneath the beast, desperately trying to get its jaw to loosen by ramming your fists frantically on its nose whilst you felt strength dwindled with each punch you gave, darkness started to sting at the corners of your eyes as something snared shut your throat and a hazy feeling settled in your head, forcing you to go lax.

Another fierce jolt of pain shot through your body when it bit down even more as the arrows of Kili penetrated its thick hide. Then after what felt like an age, it had finally letten go of you, only to be beheaded when it wanted to roar and pushed off your body.

Darkness had almost completely flooded and hazed your vision, when a warm and blissful feeling rose up from your right arm, slowly creeping its way to your hand and over the right side of your torso. Figures loomed over you, their contours hazy and moving rapidly in and out of your view.

Your ears slowly started to register sound, but it was almost like it was muffled, or held under water. Simple words were now scrambled into incoherent and indistinctive tones that held no meaning for you.

Suddenly something moved right in front of you, touching your forehead and blocking your eyes from everything. A feeling rose up in you as you stared at the thing that blocked your eyes with slight disinterest. You knew you had forgotten something, something important. Something so crucial that you could die if you didn't remember.

Then a jolt shot right through your body, setting it alight with lava in your veins and making your left fist clench hard and your toes curl to the point of pain. You then knew what you had forgotten!

_'Breathe!'_

_'BREATHE!_'

-

Bilbo had stood there in horror when a Warg had assaulted Ayne, almost thrashing her from side to side when the sickening sound of crushing bones and the piercing scream of agony chilled his bones. Then just before Dwalin had cut off the beast's head, the hobbit had seen her grow lax, her struggling seizing and her head lulling back.

The moment that the beast had been killed, they threw it off of her and called –no, screamed- to her. Bofur even slapped her a few times in the face and punched her on the chest in order to get a reaction, but alas. Her face had grown an eerie pale when Gandalf took over, placing his hand on her forehead and began mumbling words that the little hobbit didn't understand.

"BREATHE!" Gandalf then yelled out of the blue. Bilbo could see her left fist clench and her feet arch. Suddenly she began to cough, droplets of blood splattering her pale blue lips each time she drew in heavy for a gulp of fresh oxygen.

"Thank the heavens." Bofur gulped as he took Gandalf's place when the wizard flung up on his feet, striding to Thorin with a dangerous fire alight in his usually friendly eyes, causing the dwarrow prince to take a defensive stance, his brow lowered.

"Whom else have you told about this journey, aside from this company?" The old man barked.

"No one, I swear."

"Whom else!"

"I said no one! Why?"

"Because you are being hunted. Wargs aren't attacking a well-armed band without order and with just the two of them." The old man whispered, his face falling when he glanced back at the woman, lying on the forest floor with blood rapidly oozing out of her torn right shoulder.

"We need to move quickly!"

"The horses! They are gone! They've bolted!" Ori suddenly yelled, running back down from the hill with Nori, from where the horses had been stalled. Dori mumbled a few curses as he ran his hands through his light grey hair. "Then we are lost," the dwarf whispered defeated.

"Gandalf, I can distract them!" Radagast offered, walking to his fellow wizard as his green eyes twinkled with excitement. "You need all the help you can get, my friend."

Gandalf's dark grey brows furrowed together in worry when his voice lowered. "But these are Gorbundel Wargs, Radagast. They would outrun you."

The fellow wizard chuckled amused and pointed over his shoulder with this thumb, at his sled that was pulled by grey rabbits. But apparently the-not-so-ordinary kind of rabbits, judging by his smirking face. "These are Rhosgobel rabbits. I would like to see them try!"

"How do we move Ayne? She is bleeding badly and hardly conscious. It's a miracle she's still breathing due to the blood she has already lost." Bofur suddenly offered, his brown eyes filled with worry as he held the woman's head slightly up so that her lungs could easily fill themselves. She was still awfully pale and the soil beneath her was soaked with the warm blood that oozed out of her wounds.

"Thorin, you must carry her. You are one of the strongest and fittest of our group, but we need Dwalin's strength for the Wargs." The grey wizard spoke, his eyes meeting steel as Thorin growled.

"I will **not-**!"

"Then she will die and with her, everything else she has to offer! She is not the person you think she is Thorin!" The wizard's voice boomed, making Bilbo feel small and insignificant. Suddenly his interest was piqued by the sword that he wore on his belt; a blue shimmer escaped the rims of the sheath. Slowly his little hands closed around the iron handle and pulled; a brilliant blue hue that coated his sword, met his eyes.

"Orcs." Òin mumbled softly, then instantly drew his own weapon as well as the rest of the company.

"Thorin!" The old wizard warned. The prince looked around the company for one last moment; everyone looked at him with hope twinkling in their very eyes. He knew what to do before he sighed and walked down to Ayne's body, picking it up with a fluid motion and threw her over his shoulders.

His left hand was holding Ayne's right wrist, as his right arm was hooked around her right knee and pulled slightly down to keep her steady. Blood tickled down his calloused hands as Gandalf ordered them to run when more howled erupted around them. Radagast had bid his farewell and was off with a surprisingly amazing speed.

Bilbo had never run so hard in his life like he did now over the golden plains with boulders sticking out here and there. Once in a while they saw Radagast moving in the distance with a trail of Wargs following behind him, unable to match him in his speed.

Everyone was breathing hard, tired of the constant hiding and running that they were doing for the past hour now. Then there was a moment of safety when they were standing behind an enormous rock. Gandalf walked over to Thorin, whom was heaving and beads of sweat dripped down his face, yet he never yielded nor complained about the weight of Ayne's body.

Bilbo watched Gandalf place a hand on Thorin's forehead and mutter something. The dwarrow prince instantly looked much more energetic. Yet the blood-drained face of Ayne on the dwarf's shoulders, made Bilbo worry. He could see by the way Gandalf's mouth twitched that it wasn't going so well.

"Where are you leading us?" Thorin heaved, adjusting the body of Ayne just a bit. Gandalf's eyes twitched but his mouth remained shut, leaving the dwarf suspicious of the wizard's intentions.

"Listen." Fili suddenly whispered, holding up his hand to silence everyone. The sound of a Warg breathing made its way through the ear canal of Bilbo's hobbit ears, causing fear to take a tighter hold around his beating heart and his face to pale. The hobbit could hear his rapidly adrenaline drugged blood, rush through his ears with every pump of the powerful organ in his chest.

Thorin's bloodied fingers curled even tighter around Ayne's limbs. He paid attention to the Warg that was apparently above them on the boulder and gave a curt nod to Fili, whom swallowed noticeably and drew out his bow and an arrow.

Despite the threatening danger above them, the prince couldn't stop but notice that the breathing of the woman against his hair, was fading. They were running out of time and for a moment he reached up and touched her cheek. At the moment his fingers –that were discoloured of dried up blood- touched her soft cheek, he instantly drew them back and his mouth was pulled into a grim fine line.

She was growing cold.

Fili took a deep breath, and after an encourage nod from Gloin, the younger dwarf pulled the arrow back on his bow, ran out of cover and released the projectile. Shooting it straight through the Warg's neck, causing it to yelp and stammer. Unfortunately it didn't quite die as quickly as he hoped, so he quickly shot another arrow, causing the Warg to stumble and fall down with its rider.

Dwalin immediately started to smash the Warg's skull as the rest of the dwarfs quickly tried to finish of the orc riding it. The Warg and orc cried out for a while before finally being effectively silenced. With everyone heaving from exhaustion and adrenaline, the sense of fear was also growing in the group. Did they make too much noise?

Bilbo carefully looked around the boulder and saw the Warg hoard abandon Radagast and run straight towards them. Their howls tearing through the sky and turning the bones of everyone into ice, even the bones of Thorin.

Gandalf roared at them to run, run as the wind and so they did. As fast as their feet could carry them before stopping when a Warg rider appeared in front of them from a distance. Kili looked back and around, his heart falling in his stomach as he whispered the words that no one wanted to hear.

"We're surrounded."

Thorin growled, calling everyone into line whilst his hands ached to reach for his own sword. "Kili! Use your bow! Use it! Shoot them down!" His voice roared.

Panic rose in Bilbo's heart when the Wargs charged at them in all directions and the realization had hit them when he noticed that Gandalf had seemed to be disappeared. Bofur, also seemed to notice this too as he held a death grip on his pickaxe, looking around frantically to keep an eye on all Wargs.

"Where is Gandalf?! He's gone!"

"He's abandoned us!" Dwalin roared, swinging his giant axes around in an attempt to intimidate the Wargs that were now a good 100 meters away from them and closing in rapidly. Bilbo could hear the encouraging screams of their riders and the blood lusting cries of the Wargs. They were trapped by wolves like rabbits, with no escape. Once the hunters and now the hunted.

This sudden realization of death made Bilbo's grip on the sword dwindle as it started trembling within his sweaty palms. He had never wanted to die like this; like filth and with everyone he cared about not knowing of his fate, always wondering what had happened to him.

Out of the blue Gandalf rose up from a boulder, gesturing to everyone. "Why on earth are you all still standing there!? Quickly!" He then disappeared behind the rock and on que everyone started to run right at it. The roars of the Wargs grew closer and closer with each step. Without hesitation Bilbo jumped into the cavern hidden behind the boulder and slid down its slippery slope with ease.

The dwarves followed swiftly, some tumbling and some sliding. Thorin quickly lifted Ayne from his shoulders and held her by the collar as he quickly eased her down into the crevice. Only letting go of her when he was sure that someone would catch her, before he and Kili jumped down. Just in time because the sound of an elven horn resonated through the valley above them and into the cavern the company was hiding.

Bilbo cringed at the sounds of Orcs and Wargs being slain with swift knives and the whinnying of horses. _'Elves?'_He thought to himself, before his attention was drawn by Nori, whom had caught Ayne and had eased her down on the floor. His face read pure panic.

"Gandalf! She stopped breathing!" He yelped, shaking the woman and holding his ear above her nose and mouth, unable to feel the slight breeze of her breath.

The old wizard almost pushed him away as he let himself fall on his knees beside the woman. His hands hovering above her body as he started to mumble furiously, his eyes closed and a frown appearing on his forehead. Sweat pearled down the wrinkly skin as minutes passed but nothing was happening.

"Your magic isn't helping. Out of the way!" Thorin roared as he took a knife from his pocket and cut loose the woman's armour, till she was in her dark red linen undershirt that had a huge dark red stain over the whole right side of her torso. The rest of the company started to gather round, yet keeping a respecting distance as Thorin worked off portions of her armour almost feverishly.

Bilbo then watched the dwarf place both of his hands on the middle of her sternum and started to compress her ribs, counting underneath his breath. After almost a minute of compressing he placed a bloodied hand on her forehead, pinching her nose close and opened her mouth with his other hand. He then quickly placed his mouth over her and breathed air into her lungs, making her chest rise every time.

-

You could vaguely recall the feeling of falling and being caught into strong arms, before you were sinking deeper into the darkness of your mind. A strange language echoed within you, only to be then cut off by harsh words and the feeling of cold air lapping at your torso.

Two pair of strong hands pressed down on your sternum, trying to stimulate your heart into beating yet you feel nothing happen as you slipped more and more into the dark deep, but quiet substance in the back of your mind. The hands were then gone from your chest, only to be laid on your forehead and gently grasp your jaw. They were big and calloused from years of labour and fighting, the same ones that had touched your cheeks earlier with an unfound tenderness.

A pair of lips closed around your mouth as oxygen from its owner filled up your lungs, yet you felt no urge to mimic his actions. This whole ordeal almost felt like some distant memory of a dream you once had.

"Damn it. Breathe, you woman! I won't allow you to die just yet!" The one above you growled whilst you felt his hands once again on your sternum as he put his weight into compressing your ribcage. A second pair of hands closed above them, stopping the movement of compressing. Then one limb of the second owner removed itself from those of the first and seemed to stroke something away from your forehead.

"She's gone, Thorin."

And then every sense of the five you possessed, died.


	6. Chapter 06: Rivendell

Chapter 06: Rivendell

Peaceful.

That's the exact word you would describe yourself now at this very moment. Peaceful and quiet.

As you enjoyed this pleasant feeling, a heavy feeling slowly weighed itself down on you, almost crushing you by its sheer magnitude. The heavy feeling seemed to also pull you eyelids shut, unrelenting in its hold on you, you struggled. You tried to free yourself from it and managed to lift the small piece of skin -that covered the soft, squishy organs of sight- just a bit. Only to screw them back shut as a blinding light penetrated them, hurting your brain.

Your lungs gulped down delicious oxygen and as a few moments passed, the heaviness was slowly fading, allowing you to explore your limbs like a new born baby. At the same time, memories flooded your mind; memories of Wargs, crushing bites, long hair tickling your face as strong arms held you up on strong shoulders and calloused hands pressing down your ribcage.

Ribcage.

Weren't you supposed to be dead?

Your eyes took in the blinding light, but you were now determined not to close them again. Slowly the blinding light faded a little bit as the rest of your surroundings gradually took the shape of a sun lit room with beautiful ornaments on the high ceiling and tall windows. Everything, including the furniture in the room, seemed to be quite tall and big, it also felt quite.. _Elvish_.

You ordered your body to sit up, despite the dull throbbing pain that now seemed to be originating from your right arm. Your eyes took in the white bed sheet sheets that covered the lower half of your body and the oversized white gown of an unknown –but pleasant- fabric you seemed to be wearing.

Tearing your eyes from the surroundings, you focused them on something closer to home. Namely, yourself. You examined both of your hands and arms; they were cleaner than you could remember. With your fingers as your guides, you touched your face and mapped it out. Your skin was smooth and clean, your hair was out of its usual bun and the long golden blond locks cascaded down your shoulders like a waterfall as your bangs on your forehead, were quite messy up by the mapping of your fingers.

Finally your left hand touched your right shoulder and instantly the memory of the Warg attack flooded your mind. The feeling of how its jaw closed around the whole right side of your torso was still fresh in your mind, but there was no hint of pain or any sign of discomfort as you pressed here and there. Just scarred skin tissue. They _must_ have used magic to make your injuries heal so fast and so _clean_, no matter how long you have been lying here.

You had been so busy, feeling around your right shoulder trying to find any evidence of the Warg bite, that you didn't hear a visitor come inside your room until he almost sat down next to you one the bed. Your brilliant blue eyes met those of kind, soft grey as it owner lowered himself down, causing the giant bed you had been laying in, to sink in a bit by his weight.

"Gandalf." Your voice weakly croaked, making you almost sound like some old and weak granny.

"Ayne, how are you feeling?" The old man muttered, his hands feeling around your right arm, pinching here and there for no reason as his grey eyes shot from your shoulder to your face. Slowly you pulled your arms out of his soft grip and folded your hands on your lap.

"Oddly.. well-rested. Where am I? What happened?" You immediately bombarded the wizard with the questions that burned the most on the tip of your tongue, though many would soon follow. A grey bushy eyebrow of Gandalf rose up slightly as he cocked his head.

"What do you remember?" He softly asked, his words cleverly chosen as he watched you think. In his opinion you already looked better, for a moment he had been afraid that you were no longer in the land of the living. Thank the gods that Rivendell had been so close.

"I.. remember the Warg bite," you absently rubbed your right shoulder, that was completely functional for some reason, "and that I was carried, but after that..." I muttered softly, my mind breaking over the vivid memories, causing a nasty headache to surface.

"Try not to exhaust yourself, too much. You are now in Rivendell, safe and out of harm's way for the time being. The Warg-bite was a particular nasty one. Lord Elrond managed to heal you up quite nicely though." You looked up to the tall wizard, your brows furrowed together.

"Rivendell? You mean elves? Where are the rest, are they safe?" You hastily asked, your memories reminding you that the elven-folk were often not quite as hospitable as one would think, hence the reason you were worried about the rest of your company.

"Everyone is safe and enjoying a good meal, as should you. Your clothes are sown, washed and your armour patched up." The wizard stood up, gesturing to the small bundle of clothes lying neatly folded on the end of the bed. But you weren't finished questioning him, thus you grabbed his grey robes to keep him here.

"Gandalf," you hesitated to ask your question, but the caring grey eyes of the ancient man before you made you ask it anyway; "Did I die?"

The man smiled and one of his large hands stroked the bangs out of your face in such a caring way like a grandfather would do to his granddaughter. "No, you did not, thanks to the great stamina and good thinking of Thorin Oakenshield himself. But I have to remind you that it was quite a scare you gave us. Even though it has been a few days ago, you still have to recover; Listen to your body, but to your mind even more."

The grand wizard had letten go of you and so did you let go of his robes. He walked to the door on the left side of your bed and glanced over his shoulder momentarily, still smiling warmly at you. "I will see you at dinner in an half an hour." He then disappeared after giving you a thick fat wink and left you with more questions than before.

_'Why on earth was Thorin involved?' _

In protest your stomach growled loudly, making you fluster and chuckle.

"I can think about that later, but first: dinner!"

-

Bilbo was seated between the dwarves as they ate from their plates. The elves had –due to constant complaining- finally provided some meat for the company and still they complained of how it was too much 'prepared' with herbs and not 'raw' and 'simple' enough. The little hobbit sighed as he took a bite from the deliciously spiced pork that almost melted on your tongue the moment. How could they not appreciate this perfectly prepared pork! Oh, of course!

They were_ dwarves_ –aka; barbarians- compared to the elves, really.

The dwarves were conversing quite enthusiastic with each other; Ori was engulfed in a deep conversation with Fili, whilst Kili was laughing his ass off about Nori, Bofur and Dwalin, slamming on the table with laughter. Dori, Òin and Gloin were complaining about the preparation of the meat, whilst Bombur just practically ate everything that was near his plate, gorging himself.

The only two whom were whispering was Balin, sitting right next to Thorin whom was seated at the head of the table as their respective leader of the group. Suddenly Balin looked up to the exit of the dining room and Bilbo could see his face light up.

"Ayne!" The old dwarf gasped, immediately getting the attention of the others dwarves and Bilbo himself. Then everyone turned around to the door frame, filling the room with the sound of squeaky chairs and there she stood in the door frame.

The female dwarf wore her old dark red slightly over sized tunic, her black baggy trousers and strong, sturdy boots, brimmed with a silverish fur. For once her golden blond hair wasn't tied up in a bun, but flowing in thick waves down her shoulders, stopping at around the height of her breasts/shoulder blades. Her bangs framed her face perfectly as she seemed to radiate with _something _in the candle light, making her bright blue eyes shimmer and her smile more captivating.

She slowly stuck up her hand, embarrassed by the attention, and waved awkwardly at everyone.

"Hi." She whispered a bit hoarsely.

...

"Ayne! Thank the gods!"

"How are you feeling? You look amazing!"

In the blink of an eye, almost everyone had gotten up and walked towards her. Bofur threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in a tight hug, causing her to smile warmly by the way everyone was welcoming her back as she was hugged also by Nori, Ori and even the grumpy Òin!

Dwalin stayed seated at the table, gnawing on a nice piece meat whilst grinning approvingly. The only one who didn't seem to show any emotion was the one and only Thorin Oakenshield.

-

You had given more hugs than you could count and more compliments than your brain registered. Somehow, even after the warning of Thorin just mere weeks ago, the merry group seemed to have grown on you and vice versa. You were, after all, part of the company.

As everyone was slowly settling and a brief hug to Bilbo, you walked to Thorin, whom was still seated and staring at his glass of wine that stood in front of him. You hesitated, sucking in air for a few times to build up courage that you desperately needed. Somehow the group had noticed the tension and the conversation died a bit, the attention turning to you and Thorin.

Slowly and hesitating, you sank down on your left knee, your hands resting on the right and head bowed to the ground. It almost felt like bearing your neck to an almighty bear, ready to devour you the moment you gave yourself to it. You took another deep breath as you felt the prince's eyes on you. With your own eyes staring intensely at the crevices in the floor, you managed to speak somehow –despite the nerves.

"Thank you, for saving me. I know it isn't earned and never will. I owe you a debt, that debt being my life and thus I give you my sword, tongue or wit, to do with it as you please. For you are my prince, my king and I pledge myself to you."

There, you said it. The nerves were starting to take a slight toll on you as your lips were starting to quiver. The movement of the chair before you, made you startle slightly and two pair of heavy black boots came into your vision and stood still before you.

Thorin's gaze felt like a crushing weight on your lithe form, as you knew that he was thinking about his answer. Then his spoke and his words were as ever harsh as always and they made you close your eyes and anger boil in your veins.

"I do not need the sword, tongue nor wit of a traitor. I saved you not because of the kindness of my heart, but because I need your skills, nothing more and nothing less."

You swallowed and stood up, nodding but not looking at him. You felt like a fool as you turned around on your heels with quivering movements. Your eyes were still focused on the floor in front of you as you walked away fast, bursting out in a run the moment you exited the dining room.

A few moments later, strings of terrible curses tainted in the beautiful moonlit palace garden as rocks, which were thrown in the fountain, disturbed the gentle water crudely. A frustrated groan erupted from your throat when you slumped down on a bench, yelling to yourself with your head buried in your hands. "WHY WON'T HE LISTEN?! THAT STUPID, STUBBORN BULL!"

"Well, because he still is trying to figure you out, you know?"

The unexpected voice caused you to freeze and in the corner of your eyes you saw someone sit down next to you with a very distinctive white future. Your eyes met those of bright hazel, a caring smile and a snow-white beard. "Thorin isn't sure what to make of you. You are quite the puzzle to him." Balin chuckled and gave you a slight wink.

"Why? It's not that I have two different personalities or something." You muttered softly, your blue eyes focusing on your folded hands on your lap. A small breeze coursed through the garden, playing with several strands of your hair.

"He has a certain prejudice about you, but you have proven him wrong every single time again and again. He is slowly accepting you, if he hadn't, he would have never agreed to carry you nor wouldn't be frantic to save your life, lass." The wise and old dwarf muttered, looking amused at the fireflies that coursed through the air, performing complicated dances with kin alike.

"Give him time lass, or take matters in your own hands," Balin smiled and patted your knee encouragingly, before pushing himself off the bench and stretched his old back and limbs. "Well, I must be off. It's been long time to go to bed for old men like me. Good night, lassie." He gave you a caring ruffled through your bangs before taking off, whistling the nicest tune you have heard in years.

A small smile tucked on your lips.

Perhaps you _should_ take matters in your own hands.

* * *

**Author's notes: **Well that was a bummer :( The next chapter will be a lot happier!

Thorin's such an _ass_.


	7. Chapter 07: Bonding

Chapter 07: Bonding

The following night, you acted like nothing had ever happened and was eating and drinking richly with your fellow dwarves since it was the last night of everyone spending in Rivendell. Tomorrow morning, at the faintest light of dawn, you and the company would leave. Gandalf has specifically told the group not to notify anyone of our depart, since they would probably try and stop us, whilst he would be talking and distracting Elrond, whom seemed to disapprove of Thorin's plans. Despite that, he helped everyone by deciphering the moon runes on the map; there was a secret entrance to the mountain, which could only be opened if they stood on the exact place at the exact time. Tricky, but Thorin didn't seem fazed by it.

But, thank the _gods_ that he was not part of this dinner where the sweet food was melting on your tongue as you practically gorged yourself in Bombur-style. You had been starving for the past days and were determined to catch up!

Dwalin filled your cup once more with wine and also with the rest. The liquor wasn't as strong as you were used to, but the absence of alcohol for a long while still made you a bit vulnerable to it. The rest of the dwarves had rosy cheeks of the warmth, merry songs and –finally- good food.

"Hey Bifur! Play us a tune will you!" Dori called from his end of the table. In just a very short moment you heard a sweet and merry tune drifting in your ears and set your limbs on fire. Bifur had somehow managed to make his clarinet appear out of thin air –or were you just losing track of time?

A violin and three other flutes followed Bifur's example. You turned to see Balin playing the violin, joined by the three brothers Ori, Nori and Dori with each a flute, but they were all the same. Some dwarves had stood up, singing a song and with that you downed your wine in a quick swig and stumbled a bit away from the table on an empty place of floor.

You posed, like a ballerina and froze for just a few moments, waiting for the violin to catch up. Fili and Kili seemed to notice your intentions as they slammed on the tables with every "Dance! Dance!" they yelled. Then the violin had finally found your limbs and you started to move.

-

Bilbo walked in to the party and was just in time to see Ayne take the first, awkward dance paces before she turned in a rhythmic, but graceful being. Her hair, now with small braids here and there, was flowing with the movement as her feet placed themselves skilfully and knowingly on the ground. The whole ordeal was mind numbing and beautiful to every sense.

_'I had no idea dwarves could dance like that..'_ the little hobbit thought to himself as he turned on his heels and walked away. Deciding that this should be a party of their own. On his way to the gardens, he walked past a briskly looking Thorin that heeded the hobbit no glance. Making our little fellow wonder what the hell his problem was.

-

The dwarves almost gasped in unison when you performed a sudden and outstretched ballerina-like jump and landed skilfully on both feet, using the moment of the jump to make a pirouette and slowly ended it in a deep bow, announcing the end of your dance. At least that is what you expected.

"Laddies! Our turn!" Bofur yelled, jumping up and placing an arm around your shoulders. Everyone followed his example, forming a long big circle of entwined dwarves. Finally a genuine and heart-warming laugh left your lips when you performed, alongside with everyone, an old and traditional dwarrow dance.

Side-step, side-step, KICK! Your right leg flew up along with the rest. Side-step, side-step, KICK! Your left leg almost knocked Nori on the head, leaving you laughing almost uncontrollably. Your hands gripped the left shoulder, of Bofur on your right, a bit tighter as well as the right shoulder of Fili, whom was on your left –to keep yourself steady. Then everyone suddenly let go, twirled, stamped and jumped back in line as the dance continued.

A sense of kinship settled in your heart when it had finally ended and everyone yelled victorious with sweat beading on their foreheads. Your own breath was heavy as your heart was pumping furiously against your ribcage. Almost immediately a tankard was pushed in your hands by Bombur and Kili. When everyone had a tankard, the younger dwarf shouted with a hoarse and deep voice: "TANK UP!"[1]

The music stopped for a moment as everyone threw back the tankard, drinking the dark red and sweet beverage inside that was warming your throat as it gently streamed down. Little drops escaped the sides and dripped down your chin, leaving crimson marks in their wake.

The dwarves belched when they finished downing their tankard, wiping their mouths with the back of their hands. You stammered back slightly when a belch left your own lips as the world was getting slightly hazy. A pair of hands settled on your shoulders, keeping you steady as you laughed and giggled, your cheeks flustered red from the warmth and liquor.

Bofur twirled you around when the music was staring to play again. The dwarf took you in another dance, one that was unknown to you, but not hard to follow. You breathed deeply, trying to keep the intoxication at bay, when you two stood in front of each other, matching Bofur in height if you were just a few inches tall –he also wore the damn hat again!

Both of your right hands raised and placed the palms on each other as the two of you danced around each other. There was something intense about this dance, something that was also portrayed in the movements of the dwarf as in his eyes, whom now held a seriousness that you had never seen before.

As the dance progressed you found yourself completely engulfed in the music and noticed that the dwarf's eyes that were not just an ordinary brown; but had lighter flecks here and there. Then, out of the blue, Bofur twirled you around, eliciting a gasp and giggle from your lips. His right arm encircled your waist, keeping you from falling when your lower body was pulled against him and your torso set to lean down and allowing you some freedom and ending the dance by this single move.

A grin conjured on Bofur's lips as he hauled you back on your feet and patted your shoulder. "You did wonderful! I didn't know you were familiar with the dance!" His thick accented voice roared above the thundering sound of hands smashing together. You bowed at the rest of the company, cheeks flushed and your vision slightly swimming.

"I wasn't! You were just easy to follow," you chuckled and stroked the dwarf's cheek for a moment, in a sign of appreciation, before you joined the rest of the company. You noticed that you had a hard time of walking straight and that it was time to go to bed.

You straightened your back and with a dramatic and poetic voice you spoke, "Alas, my dear kin, I shall announce my leave. Since the alcohol has risen to my brain and fatigue had settled in my limbs. My bed calls me and I bid you all a very good night, may the dawn greet you gently like a feather grazing the skin! Good night!"

-

Balin watched Ayne leave with staggering feet and a defining smile on her radiating face. He had watched you and Bofur dance; it had been like watching two snakes performing a battle. You two matched each other completely in movement, though you claimed not to know the steps.

The old dwarf watched the hatted one stare at you back -till you had completely vanished- before he retreated back to the rest of the company and sat down, downing the drink that Dwalin had just poured in for himself. Earning him a swat on the head and laughter rose up from the merry company.

Bifur growled something in Khuzdul at the white bearded Balin, the moment they decided to stop the music. Balin nodded slowly, his brows furrowed and his forehead wrinkled with thoughts when he gently set his violin against a pillar. "Yes Bifur, I suppose you're right. Though Ayne may not notice it herself, but let's dwell on that later. First, a good stiff drink!"

What they all hadn't noticed, was that Thorin had been watching from a distance, his stormy eyes dark and mauling.

-

The dark hall ways of the Rivendell almost seemed endless. Here and there you spotted an elf or two, one time residents, the other time a lone guard patrolling around. Aside from the occasional elf, the halls were abandoned and basking in the silver moonlight.

"Were you having fun?" A voice barked from behind you, its tone so familiar that you had to roll your eyes at it when you turned around and quirked up an eyebrow.

The _almighty_ Thorin walked out of the shadows, the silver light of the planet high above the star scattered night enlightened the few grey strands in his raven black hair and his armoured figure. His hands were resting on his belt with the crest of Erebor as he took long and powerful strides towards you.

Your eyes narrowed, as his intonation was not to your liking. "Yes, in fact, I did. What, is that forbidden too now?" The voice from the back of your throat seethed as you straightened your back when the _prince_ stood before you and halted his strides. His steel eyes took in your weary face, a nerve pulling at his lips before he turned to the side and glanced past the pillars to the beautiful sight of the Imladris valley.

-

Thorin's mind was frustrated about this woman before him as he folded his arms behind his back. A soft evening breeze caressed his face, causing the hairs on the pelt he wore around his shoulders move in the change of air. "I have been wondering about your motivation, Ayne. About why you keep trying to be one of us, since it's so evidently clear that you are not."

His eyes shot from the valley to her form beside him. He noticed the slight twitch in her delicate fingers and a tendril pull at the side of her gorgeous face as she evidently clenched her jaw. "It has seemed that you have captured anyone's heart and now I am the only one left to see the schemes that you are planning."

The woman groaned, taking a step towards him and the prince's shoulders tensed immediately. Thorin was very away of the distance between the two of them that was now about five feet. He was also very aware of the distance from his hands to his sword hanging on his belt, which were a few mere inches.

"I can't believe it! You are so blinded by your pride and grudges that you aren't willing to see the truth! I did **not** betray you, nor even participate in the treason of my father!" She barked at him, her brilliant blue eyes shining with passion and the will to prove herself.

"Do you think it was a joke when I pledged myself to you yesterday?! Surprise, it wasn't! I have been truthful the entire journey, trying to make you see my part of the battle, that wasn't about victory but about torture and betrayal by my own kin. Yet you keep rampaging like some mad boar, blind to everyone except yourself."

Thorin could feel an anger boil up inside him, as the woman lectured him. She lectured him! Her voice was fierce at first, but then slowly it was dwindling in volume, yet upholding its strength as it past her wavering lips. Suddenly her eyes met his with a blazing intensity that made every sign of intoxication disappear as he could see her sober up completely in an instant.

"You want to know the story? Follow me."

She then turned on the heels of her black boots and strode off with powerful paces. Did the prince want to follow the woman whom lectured him, unwavering and unmoving, yet stayed respectable? Thorin found that his curiosity was piqued to a certain degree, but his proud heart was growing heavy with each step he took when his body followed Ayne.

Was he willing to give up his prejudiced thoughts about her, the battle and her father Aynúr? His mind was sealed when the woman closed the doors of her humble chambers when he entered it and started to light the candles. His right hand slowly closed around the sheathed handle of his sword Orcrist as his grey eyes watched the woman walk up to him, her golden blond hair flowing like liquid around her shoulders and the candles illuminated her face in a warm orange glow.

It appeared he did.

* * *

**Author's notes: **[1]: Remember the scene from the movie?  
Forgive the 'dance' scene. I suck at writing ;_;

I won't be posting until 2013. I wish everyone a Merry Christmas and enjoy the final days of 2012!


	8. Chapter 08: Truth

**Author's Notes:** I promised that I wouldn't post any chapters until 2013. But I couldn't help myself, so here is the next chapter.

Which sucks.. hard. :insertemocornerhere:

* * *

Chapter 08: Truth

The moment was there –finally-, you had the complete and absolute attention of Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thraín, son of Thrór. The King of the Mountain without a mountain, but ready to reclaim it. Ready to reclaim the former glory of his race, _your_ race.

Damn it, now you were just making yourself nervous!

"Sit.. please?"

It wasn't an order, but more of a request. Yet the dwarrow in front of you followed your instructions, took the nearest chair and sat down. His armour making the slightest noises by the movement, whilst he dark steely eyes followed you with an half-hearted curiosity as you moved and stood in front of him.

They tracked down every breath your lungs filled themselves with, every twitch of your trembling fingers and every bat of your eyelashes as you took a chair and sat down before the prince. You respectively kept a feet or two between yourselves and folded your hands on your lap whilst you crossed legs in old fashion.

"I want you, to give your word that you will not interrupt me, walk away nor prejudice me for whatever I am saying and wait until I am finished speaking. Agreed?"

-

Thorin watched the woman choose her words carefully as the candle light gently grazed her features. He could tell that she felt a bit nervous to face him so directly like this, but she did not back away from it and that was a feature he respected. So he nodded and saw the woman before him relax visibly when she gave him a brief upward tuck of her lips.

"Do you remember the moment Azog the Defiler had been incapacitated? Well, of course you do," she muttered quickly, thinking to herself of where she was going to start her story. The prince shifted in his seat and his gaze darkened, causing her mind to quickly think to desperately to try and hold the curiosity of the prince. This may very well be her only chance to correctly tell this.

"Before you had taken up arms against Azog the Defiler, my father foresaw that the dwarrow would lose that battle. So he made a pact with Azog during the heat of the battle; that if they should win and Azog would spare him, he would try and take back Erebor himself –with Azog's help- and so the pale Orc would rule both dwarf kingdoms and become the greatest Orc ruler that had ever lived."

"Azog liked that plan, but they hadn't counted on you, Thorin Oakenshield. After you incapacitated the beast and the Orcs retreated, Azog ordered my father to be brought before him. They tortured him, hoping to get everything out of him about Erebor, but it happened that he hadn't never even lived there and that he had been lying all this time."

She took a deep breath, her tongue wetting her slowly drying lips as her eyes focused on her folded hands on her lap. "They had him executed on the spot. Soon after that, Orc scouts had found me and identified me as his daughter. Because of the pact –that was now boozing around the army- I had been chased of by some of the soldiers. They had threatened to kill me if I stayed in the army any longer."

"I have never seen you there. There weren't any female dwarves-" Thorin started, changing his seat and his shoulders squared as he felt his veins bubble. Gently he was cut off by the woman before him, shaking her head and her voice soft.

"There were; we were just hidden as men and healing our brethren at the very back of the army. We couldn't just let our loved ones fight a hopeless battle alone." Thorin saw her lips quiver for a moment as he saw the blue eyes in her skull grow slightly absent. "It was horrible," she muttered softly, but then took a deep breath and resumed her story.

"Anyway, the Orcs had found me because I was casted out. They brought me to Azog and he had me imprisoned until I knew where the entrance of Erebor laid. Despite my father –whom had left my mother when I was still a youngling and travelled the world- I knew the entrance and where its solitary peak was. He had me tortured in order for me to say it, using horrific methods." Her mouth pulled into a grim line when she thought back on it.

"He kept me imprisoned for Eru knows how long. Then, when I was nothing more than a skin sack filled with bones, blood and agony, he casted me in to the wilderness. Giving me a day or two to crawl as fast as I could before he was going to suck his Wargs on me."

A shiver ran over her back as her face had grown a shade paler when she was thinking back at those horrid memories. Thorin felt himself enthralled by it, though he did not show it. His mind was trying to reform his prejudices towards this woman, whom was the victim of her own kin's betrayal. Then her face slowly lit up when a smile grazed her features and her eyes grew warm.

"Just in time, Gandalf had found me. He managed to kill the Wargs as he rescued me and placed me into the care of a loving family in Bree. There, my wounds were nurtured and shelter given to me. In return I helped the mother to raise and educate her children whilst the father of the family taught me everything I know about herbs, healing and sword fighting."

"Years passed and the parents died, the children went their own separate ways and I was left there. Alone once more and dreaming of a life and a time that was long past me. Then Gandalf once again appeared, just in time before I was going to set out to travel. He told me of you, your company and your quest. So I went to Bag End, to join you, you know how the rest went."

-

You felt drained and weary of telling. Your mouth had become dry and felt like parchment when you tried to wet it with your tongue. A glance outside the window, told you that you had been talking the entire time and now dawn was coming, judging by how the sky was slowly losing its black edge and the number of stars began to diminish. Slowly you stood up and blew out the candles, indicating the end of it.

Thorin followed your example, his steel eyes tracking you as you moved to take off your boots and was ready to plump down on the bed to sleep for an entire age. "How do I know, you have been speaking truthful?" His voice echoed in the empty and silent room, seeming much louder than it was in reality.

A sigh left your lips as you ran a hand through your golden locks. "What I told you is the truth, Thorin Oakenshield. Whether you believe it or not. Do with it whatever you want, but I have spoken. Now I wish to get some sleep before dawn is fully upon us and we need to leave, I suggest you do the same."

-

Thorin hesitated, but slowly laid a hand on the woman's shoulder, his grip strong but not tight. As a reaction he saw her eyes shimmer briefly and a small upward tuck at the corner of her lips. The prince said nothing though, showing his support just with a nod and the small squeeze in her shoulder. With that done, he turned around and walked away. He surely could use some sleep too.

The moment Thorin closed the door of her chambers, his eyes caught a familiar shimmer of white hair. Balin emerged from the shadows, his face weary but his eyes, that were filled with wisdom and experience, were still twinkling with energy. "And?"

"She.. speaks truthful. I believe her, I think."

"I have already told you that, but it is good now that you know her tale first hand," the old dwarf smiled. Together they walked the corridors that were coming alive in the fast arriving light of dawn.

"You knew about what she had been through? Why haven't you told me, my dear friend?" Thorin paused for a moment, only to quickly catch up with the experienced dwarf. Whom sighed and smiled a bit briefly, but also a bit sad at him.

"If I did that you wouldn't believe her as much as you do now. You still would not fully trust her, Thorin." Balin took a deep breath, filling his lungs with a huge amount of oxygen and then slowly exhaled. Fatigue was seeping into his old joints and his withered mind. Despite that, he could see Thorin think about his words, but he seemed to have no desire to reply on them. Thorin knew that the old Balin was right.

"Anyway, I am going to catch some sleep. We must be well-rested and on our way at the first light of the next dawn, remember?" With that the dwarf patted his prince on his shoulder, smiling kindly before he turned around and walked away.

Leaving his prince -no- _king_ to his own thoughts.


	9. Chapter 09: Mountains

**Author's notes: **To compensate for the horrible chapter 8; here's another one! One that I DO like! Our heroine does seem to like trouble and life-threatening situations, doesn't she?

Enjoy!

[1] I don't know whether this is true or not. But I recall hearing the breathing method in some documentary and I thought; why not?

* * *

Chapter 09: Mountains

"Why? Just why?"

A feminine voice at the very back of the company drawled this, weakly and slightly hoarse. Bilbo glanced back briefly, an amused eyebrow raised and a chuckle coming rolling from his lips as he eyed the company behind him. Each and every single one of them were walking with heavy paces (aside from Balin and Thorin), eyes slightly puffed and their faces contorted like they were having huge migraines.

Thorin, whom had no pity for the dwarves, yelled at them to increase their pace, since he wanted to reach the mountains as soon as possible. As they walked –albeit with a bit of complaining- Bilbo could feel the air around them warm up just slightly and the sky turning a beautiful pinkish golden colour, before transcending in a bright blue in just over an hour.

-

Your brains were moaning in agony as they pounded painfully at the roof of your skull. A groan left your lips when the sun started to shine its agonizing –yet enchanting- light right into your eyes, increasing the dull pain.

Despite the headache and sour taste on your tongue, there was one little bright side to this; you had your weapons back. Apparently Thorin seemed to be trusting you on your word, sort of, and handed back your weapons in Rivendell. When the prince turned to walk away, you had spotted Balin, whom gave you a thick fat wink of his eye. There was no doubt that Balin had some say on the matter concerning your weapons.

For that you were grateful.

A distant smile crept on your lips when you and the company finally left the Imladris valley and continued through the wilderness, eventually to set foot on fast and rocky plains as the path led you west towards the Misty Mountains. The warm afternoon sun shone on the back of the dwarrow, whom had formed a quiet and marching line.

Bombur was the first to stop and plump down in the weathered grass, sweat drenching his forehead and his breathing ragged on this fire red moustache. "Can- can we stop for a moment? I'm hungry." He moaned, holding his enormous stomach that was now roaring for anyone to hear.

Slowly the group gathered around the decent sized dwarf, unable to decide what to do. Dwalin's sharp eyes looked west, his giant tattooed hand shielding his vision from the bright sun; you could see sweat drops littering the marked skin that hugged his hairless skull tightly. "The mountains are just a few hours walking, but this is the perfect place to rest. Who knows what dwells there in the mist," the dwarrow warrior gruffly spoke. His eyes settled on Thorin.

The prince glanced around the company, eyeing their weary expressions and the silent pleading in some eyes. Finally he nodded and threw his backpack on the ground. "Fine, we will camp for a moment. Bombur, Dori, prepare the food. We will leave in half an hour."

Sighs and mutterings of joy and relief were heard around the group. You settled down your pack and lied down in the red coloured grass after shoving a few pointy rocks out of the way. A certain hobbit sat down beside you, his eyes tracking the movement of Bombur and Dori as they started to cook –probably for the last time before they would enter the mountains.

"You know, I would have never thought that I would do this," Bilbo muttered and crossed his stretched out legs as he leaned slightly back with his hands on the ground, supporting his upper torso. The entire company had also laid down their packs and sat down in the grass; Ori and Òin were engaged in quite an animated conversation about the mountains, whilst Nori and Balin were enjoying their pipes in peace. Bilbo could see Bofur holding a block of wood, his deep brown eyes eyeing it intently as his hands worked the wood with his whittling knife. Bifur sat next to him, keeping an eye on his cousin's process. Thorin and Dwalin were the only ones standing, both facing the mountains and their voices hushed.

"Do what, Bilbo?" You hummed slightly, eyes closed and enjoying the rays of warm sunlight that were caressing your timeless face. The hobbit focused his attention back to something closer to home, like his hairy feet and wiggled his toes. He could see in the corner of his eyes that Fili and Kili were entangled in each other and rolling on the ground, wrestling and earning a few laughs and stares here and there.

"Things like fighting trolls, run for horrendous Wargs, enjoy the hospitality of the Elves and moreover; see the world." The hobbit breathed, his voice filled with emotion. You cracked open one eye and looked up to see a cheeky grin tucking at Bilbo's lips. It was infectious.

"You may enjoy it now master hobbit, but wait until you smelled one of Bombur's farts. Now that is murderous. Worse than Wargs I tell you!" A chuckle left the hobbit's throat as the mentioned ginger-haired dwarf uttered a half-insulted gasp.

Soon, delicious smelling food was passed around in hot steaming bowls. "Despite his farts, Bombur is an excellent cook. Thank you, my friend." Fili smiled, holding his bowl up in a sign of appreciation and respect. A nasty bruise started to form just below his right eye, a gift from Kili –whom had apparently lost the wrestling match. Several others uttered in agreement and started to eat silently.

-

The meal appeared to be heavy on the stomach due to the amount of nutrition in it. Bilbo could feel that his stomach had swollen just a little bit as everyone turned to gather their pack when Thorin gave the sign that they would continue to move on. He heaved his pack on his back -with little help from Ayne- and followed the company, his walking stick clutched in his little fist.

Ayne strode right next to Balin, whilst Thorin and his good friend Dwalin walked ahead. The youngsters Fili and Kili had the most superior visions amongst the company, so they stayed at the back along with Bombur and his kin.

His brows furrowed together as they slowly closed the distance to the mountains, which were now almost looming over them as they began to climb. The vegetation on the ground started to dwindle the more they climb and thus the thinner and colder the air became. Even though it had been blue skies a few hours back, it was now quite foggy; as if the clouds themselves had descended upon the company.

With each meter they climbed, the more the fog seemed thicken and their visibility began to dwindle. Soon Bilbo couldn't see the dwarves at the front nor the dwarves at the back. He took in a deep and freezing breath, but it felt like he was breathing through cloth. His eyes glanced around, as none of the dwarves seemed to bother with the dwindling amount of oxygen.

A hand settled on his shoulder, almost startling the hobbit. Crystal blue irises peered in his eyes and a warming smile tucked at familiar lips. "Trouble breathing? It's because of the altitude, nothing to worry about."

"How come you don't have-" He tried to speak, but it felt like he was constantly out of breathe; like he was running some marathon. Ayne started to walk beside him; he could hear her breathing quite evident and concentration on her face as she stared at her feet whilst she walked.

"Because we are used to dealing with it; we are dwarves remember? Mountains are our voodoo. The trick is to focus. Inhale with one step, exhale with the other. Keep it rhythmic."[1]

Bilbo followed Ayne's instructions and found that he could breathe a lot better after a few minutes. He looked up to thank her but saw that she already had fallen behind him to keep an eye on the other dwarves, helping them with their breathing and readjust their heavy backpacks.

As the hours progressed the climbing had stopped as they were now following a 'path'. That path was more of a ridge and could barely contain one dwarf. So they shuffled, with their backs flat against the mountain and carefully looked where to place their feet.

The good thing was that the fog had disappeared; the bad thing was is that it was replaced by rain. A _lot_ of rain, soaking the poor company from head to toe and everything in between. Heavy winds blazed through the crevices of the Misty Mountains, trying to take a hold of their bodies and hurl them into the dizzying depths beneath their feet. It caused Bilbo to press his back flatter against the stone behind him, whilst his heart was pounding anxiously against his chest.

-

Suddenly, out of the blue, he could see a giant rock soaring into the air. The company almost gasped in unison and someone shouted, his voice barely heard above the soaring wind and rain. "Everybody take cover!" You grabbed the dwarf Ori next to you and pressed his back flat against the stone in a lightning fast reflex.

"Damn it Ori-!" You began to yell, but your voice was drowned out by the sound of the giant rock smashing into the mountain above your heads. It shattered into thousand little pieces above their heads, sending the smaller variants –but still big enough to crush your head- to rain down upon the company, whom desperately tried to avoid them. The force of the impact had been so powerful that you could feel the mountain shake beneath you, causing the ridge to crumble a bit and forcing you to press your back even more against the mountain.

Then an enormous silhouette appeared in the cascading rain. It was as big as the mountains itself and tore with the greatest ease a peak from its foundations. Bofur gasped next to you, "Oh no.. It's a Stone Giant!" His face had turned a pale white. Suddenly the mountain beneath the company's also started to shake and rip, tearing the company into two groups.

You looked up and swallowed down thickly as fear was gripping your heart. The mountain you and the dwarrow had been climbing was one of those giants as well. "Make that two giants, Bofur," You muttered weakly, you face growing an eerie pale as your hands held the rock behind you in a death grip. Then the creature started to move.

**"HOLD ON!"**

The giants were furiously fighting each other. Sending rock and debris down the heads of the dwarves and the little hobbit. You tried to cover yourself but at the same time tried to hold on with all your power. The power of the beings above your head was immense and literally mind blowing.

In the corner of your eyes you spotted the other half of the company jumping to a safe mountain. Thorin and the rest were gesturing wildly and shouting, but the rain and the ear shattering fight prevented you from understanding a word of it. Suddenly you felt the knees of the giant buckle, its head removed with thundering roar.

Your hand grabbed the hobbit left of you, holding him back when the surface tilted slightly, as you watched a mountain surface come closer and closer with rapid speed. A shout was heard just before you and the other half of the company smashed into the mountain with an enormous blow. The giant then tumbled back into the abyss, its body shattering whilst you tried to get a grip somewhere.

_Anywhere._

-

Thorin rushed in, shouting for a reaction. He rushed around the corner and the fear, that held an iron grip around his heart, made way for relief. The other half of the company were groaning, slightly wounded, but still alive. He smiled as he walked up to them and then absently counted. Bofur and Ayne looked around rapidly, the first to realize that there was something wrong.

"Wait! Where is Bilbo?!" Ayne shouted, her voice pitching and her face pale with adrenaline and panic. Thorin could see blood ooze from a nasty wound on her temple, but she herself didn't give any attention to it. Then they spotted two pair of hands, the knuckles white and holding on the ridge for dear life.

Bofur and Dori threw themselves on their stomachs and tried to grasp Bilbo's hands. "Bilbo! Give me your hand!" Bofur shouted, his hood almost covering his eyes. Bilbo grunted, his arms were trembling as he could feel the power in them dissolve and the rock underneath his fingers crumble. Was this really _it_?

Then a hand grabbed the back of his hem and lifted him, allowing Bofur and Dori to get a firm hold on him and lift the hobbit out of danger. He was just in time to see striking blue eyes as he turned around and heard a yelp of surprise.

-

You felt the rock beneath your hand –where you had hold onto whilst lifting Bilbo- crumble and gave way. Air surged around you as you fell and a yelp of surprise passed your lips. Suddenly your fall stopped suddenly and your right arm was jerked upwards in a painful matter. Snapping your head to the sky, your eyes met that of steel and a hand holding your right wrist in a painful death grip.

The black mane of the man above you was dancing around his head as the wind got a hold of it. It was almost blending in with the pitch black skies behind him, yet he stood out more than you thought. Slowly a panic rose up in your gut and the realization of death smashed into your being.

-

Thorin grunted as he felt the grip on her loosen and her wrist slither out of his grasp. "Woman, grab my hand! Ayne!" He saw her eyes looking up at him in bewilderment and sheer panic. Then something cleared up in their icy depths and the fingers of her right hand curled around his wrist. Dwalin, whom held his own right arm, was grunting and puffing. A string of colourful curses left the lips of the dwarrow warrior.

"Hold on, okay?" Ayne nodded, a fire emerging from her eyes as Thorin started to swing the woman from right to left. She used her body to gain momentum, getting higher and higher with each swing. Finally after a few swings she was at his height and as she swung back, Thorin and Ayne screamed; adding every last ounce of strength in that very movement. Then their hands let each other go.

"**AYNE!**"

With an amazing speed Ayne flew up, her arms outstretched and her fingers spread apart. Her icy depths were filled with the intense will to life and determination. Bofur and Dori were lying on their stomachs, held by the other dwarves, and reached out for her. Screaming her name as if it would help to get her higher and higher. At the peak of her velocity the bitch called gravity started to pull her back down.

Ayne's fingers grazed the forearms of the dwarves, but unable to grab a hold of the limb. Bilbo saw her eyes grew to the size of dishes as she failed to get a grip on the dwarves. The strands that had escaped her bun formed a terrifying halo around her paling face as she descended back into the abyss.

But then Bofur and Dori got a hold of her wrists, jerking her arms and stopping her flight abruptly. Bilbo couldn't help but the sigh and laugh relieved as the two dwarves pulled her up, allowing her feet to touch a surface again. Thorin was pulled up by Dwalin and shook the raven black hair out of his face.

-

You couldn't help but to laugh, feeling so relieved that you pulled both dwarves in a bone-crushing embrace, not caring that everyone was soaked and cold because of the rain. "Thank you guys.." you whispered in a small voice just for them to hear, your forehead pressed against a shoulder. Someone's hand slowly rubbed and patted you on the back and your ears picked up the faint quirking sound of someone grinning cheekily.

After a second or two, you pulled away and was in turn greeted by the relieved eyes of the rest of the company. You watched Thorin glance for a moment in your direction, the two of you shared a nod. Even though that Thorin's nod was more briskly and moodier than yours, you didn't care about that right now at the moment.

Because right now you were alive and was for the second time saved by Thorin –whether you liked it or not-, but also by Bofur and Dori. In a moment of silence when the group listened to Thorin's suggestion to camp somewhere, with Bofur's hand on your shoulder (as if he was afraid you decided to become suicidal all of a sudden), your eyes met those of Bilbo. Right there and then a switch was flipped inside your brains and you knew.

No matter how small, insignificant or useless you and Bilbo often were.. Somewhere, someone must really like the two of you. Perhaps it was fate, perhaps something more, perhaps it was nothing.

Anyway; you certainly liked that idea.


	10. Chapter 10: Reflection

**Author's notes: **A sweet little chapter of reflection with some slight fluff. Have I told you guys that I really like Bofur?

But! He is _probably_ not going to be the pairing.. I haven't made up my mind about that yet.

So here is a question for you guys: Who would _you_ like to see paired up with Ayne?

* * *

Chapter 10: Reflection

Warmth.

It almost felt like an illusion right now; like you had never known how it felt to be warm. The rain and winds were weighing down your mood. Making you snarky, snappy and above all; grumpy. You were rarely seen snarky, snappy or grumpy and it was not a happy nor joyful sight to behold. At least not for most people. The dwarves were not 'most people', mind you. But they had decided to leave you be instead of tormenting you.

The cave the company had huddled themselves in wasn't made to lift your mood either; it only darkened it. Especially because of the fact that Gloin wasn't allowed to make a fire, much to your –and everyone else's- chagrin. Though the dried food that Bombur passed around helped to make your life a little more bearable as you nibbled it, meanwhile you started to braid your long, blond manes into one thick braid.

Finally you had settled yourself against the wall, silently hoping that this mountain wasn't part of any Stone Giant, and tucked up your knees as the cold now really started to embed itself into your bones. The blanket in your backpack was no use either since it was also drenched, like every other fucking thing in your pack.

Thorin glanced around, after seeing that everyone had settled he spoke; "Everyone, try to get some sleep. Bofur, take the first watch." There were a few mutterings and curses, but everyone managed to settle and find a spot in the crowded cave. There was one advantage of this cave; body heat. Because the cave was quite narrow and not quite as deep, the dwarves had to huddle quite close to each other, thus leaving little room between each dwarf. But that meant that they could feed off some of the warmth the other was radiating and vice versa. It wasn't much –because everyone just refused to strip-naked and huddle together, including you- but it was at least something.

A curse left your lips, louder than you intended, as you tried to stop the shivering whilst the taste of the food was still on your lips. Someone sat down left of you, tut-tutting in mild disapproval as his shoulder pressed against yours. "Such a sour tongue for a lady, shame on you Ayne," a merry voice tut-tutted in your ears, causing you to huff with amusement tainting your voice.

"Shame on me, master dwarf? Have you ever heard yourself, not to mention Dwalin or your own cousin?" You chuckled softly as you noticed that most of the dwarves were _trying_ making themselves comfortable on their moist blankets and hard floor. Some just decided to sleep upright against the wall, which seemed more comfortable to you than the floor.

"Ah, those are exceptions. As for me; I often like a good string of curses." Bofur groaned and made himself comfortable next to you. The sound of voices in the cave slowly died as everyone had made themselves comfortable and made way for the sound of twelve dwarves and a hobbit sleeping.

You eyed each of the sleeping dwarves in silence, a peaceful feeling arising in your gut as you hugged your knees a little closer to fend out the cold. Then something warm and fuzzy being pressed on your head. It was so big that it fell over your eyes, so you had to tilt it back in order to regain back your vision. A soft chuckle erupted from beside you.

"The hat suits you." Bofur whispered, his dark and warm eyes twinkling and a cheeky smile tucking at his lips. He wielded his whittling knife with great ease and craft as he was carving in the small block wood that you remembered from lunch. Rough shapes and lines were beginning to form in the small block of wood that wasn't remotely finished.

"Bofur-"

"You are freezing and the hat helps a lot. Besides, I'm not that cold."

It was true. Your eyes could see that the outlines of his body weren't shivering at all, though the dimness of the cave took away the ability to see any details. His voice didn't sound cold though. You slowly leaned back against the stone wall after pulling down the hat properly and snuggling inside your moist coat, trying to preserve some heat –though somehow the hat was indeed helping.

"Thanks."

"For the hat, lass? No pro-"

"No," your voice was louder than you thought, startling you, as you cut the dwarf off. "I meant for catching me. I was sure to fall back there when I felt yours and Dori's arms slip through my fingers. If you two didn't catch my wrists.." You whispered softly, falling silent as the thought of dying weighed heavy on your mind.

A warm hand enclosing around your own broke your chain of thoughts; bringing you back to reality. Though you didn't see Bofur –because of the damn hat- you could almost hear him smile in his voice. It also made you smile as the haze of sleep started to waft over you when you listened to his soft accented voice.

"Of course I caught you. We need you Ayne, despite everything what Thorin thinks or feel about you. You are not the fifth wheel, and Bilbo isn't neither."

"You two are kin. Don't ever forget that."

And you didn't. Not even when the sweet blanket of sleep rolled over you in warm waves; taking your deeper and deeper with each intake of oxygen. The first dreams were fleeting and forgetful, nothing too serious or too extravagant for your mind to remember or to take in. But then one about your recent death experience slowly emerged from your unconscious mind.

For a moment you felt like you were flying once more, soaring in the sky and your fingers outstretched towards Dori and Bofur whom were lying on their stomachs with their arms open and ready to catch you. Suddenly the two dwarves started to merge together, growing into a pale mass that grew bigger than the size of any man.

Pale, thick fingers closed around your right wrist, yanking your arm painfully as you dangled there. Azog leaned over the edge, bearing his rotting and pointy teeth as his pale silver eyes twinkled deviously. He pulled you up as fear held the same painful hold around your heart like he was holding your wrist. He spoke, his voice matching your memories exactly; vile, sadistic and promised with future torture.

"And here we have the female dwarf, again. On a futile quest with futile beliefs. A puppet amongst the rest, dancing to my will." Azog the Defiler spoke, his voice wavering with a sick amusement. You were dropped on the ground and landed on your knees in burning embers instead of stone.

Smoke filled your lungs as you looked up, Azog had changed into Thorin; his black manes clinging to his face as his breathing was hard. You swallowed when the tip of his sword grazed your cheekbone and his steel eyes bored into you, filled with anger and betrayal.

"You betrayed us. You deceived us and led everyone to their doom, their _death_." The prince before you gestured around him, causing your eyes to wander everywhere but Thorin. Pine trees were burning with an all-devouring fire around the two of you and slowly closed in. The heat of the fire was so intense that you already found it hard to breath due to the smoke and sweat was dripping from your brow –even though it was a good twenty meters away. The mutilated and defiled bodies of the rest of the company were sprawled around you and Thorin, their faces contorted with agony and their eyes filled with death with any kind of Orcish weapons sticking out of their bodies.

"I believed you. Now, you will die." Thorin growled, catching your attention once again; just in time to see his sword coming down.

Instead of pain and death; you woke up startled. For a moment all that you could see was the inside of Bofur's head when you regained your breathing, slowing it down to a normal rhythm. With a quick snap of your head, the hat was flipped back and once again you were able to see once more.

Bilbo was standing in the entrance of the cave, his back pack over his shoulders and a walking stick in his hand. You sat up a bit, squinting your eyes against the darkness. Bofur patted the hobbit on the shoulder, his voice sad as he spoke; "I wish you all the luck in the world. I truly do."

Bilbo bit the inside of his lower lip, slowly nodding as he was ready to turn around. You quickly sat up, with the intention of stopping the hobbit before a hissing sound drifted into your ears. Your icy blue eyes then caught the sight of crevices appearing on the floor when the sand leaked into.

"Everyone wake up! Wake up!" Thorin yelled, jumping on his feet and grabbing his pack. In a blink of an eye everyone was awake and some already had a weapon in their hands. But the next event took everyone by surprise; the ground had split open beneath their very feet.

A yelp tore itself from your throat just in time before the sensation of falling settled in your stomach. Causing the organ to settle itself somewhere between your throat and chest cavity. Air enveloped you, making you tumble around and around. The dwarves were yelling and screaming helplessly as some collided against the walls of the tunnel you were falling into.

The thought of broken bones just appeared in your mind when a light –no, a **hole**- appeared at the end of the tunnel that had seemed so endless before. The hole grew bigger and bigger within seconds and you braced yourself for impact. And fuck the gods, the impact did come.

It was hard and relentless, smashing the air right out of your lungs as everyone fell on top of everyone; disoriented and rattled. Within an instant, a screeching sound reached your ears, making you jump on your feet with your sword –that you had gotten from Rivendell- clutched so tightly in your right hand until the leather of your gloves groaned in protest.

Goblins rushed in toward you and the company, whom held their arms tightly to themselves. You quickly counted heads coming to a total of fifteen –including yourself-; everyone was standing and everyone was alright –and somehow Bofur had his hat back on his head. You then snatched Bilbo by the collar and pulled him behind you protectively as the Goblins rushed in closer and closer. Ready to overwhelm the party.

And they surely did


	11. Chapter 11: The Goblin King

**Author's notes: **With this exhausting and incredibly difficult chapter (I kinda lost the flow in this one) we have come to then end of the amazing year of 2012! It was filled with elections, doomsday preppers and much, much more. Anyway, I wish everyone a happy and fulfilling 2013! See you there!

Thank you all for the kind reviews, favorites and follows!

* * *

Chapter 11: The Goblin King

Within seconds the goblins had overwhelmed the party, crowding the platform you were onto so fast that no one had the chance to engage into real combat. At least you managed to cut a few down, but they replenished the dead ones with twice as many in a heartbeat.

Goblins were vile creatures; the most were about the same average height as dwarves. Their warty skin was a sick green-greyish colour, their noses flat and their teeth slightly pointed and with a rotten odour wafting out of their mouths. Yet it wasn't their overall physical appearance that revolted you, no. It was the way their long fingers took a hold of you with pus –that came out some of the warts on the appendages- oozed on your clothing.

With certain aggressiveness the creatures forced the company to form a crude queue after they had stripped everyone from their weapons. Once again you were without your weapons and left to the mercy of others, but now you were really growing sick and tired of it! With their slimy hands they kept everyone restrained –even Dwalin- and pushed you to walk along the wobbly wooden structures that littered the enormous cave with the mountain above your heads.

As the company was forced to move forward, you took the chance to look around; hoping to focus your thoughts elsewhere than the disgusting creatures that you felt poking in your back to keep you moving. It seemed that you and the party had been sleeping above an entire underground Goblin community.

There were faint signs of homes carved into the rocky walls and the wooden scaffolds you were walking on seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of you and below you into the deep belly of the earth. Here and there it was illuminated by torches, but at other places you were forced to walk in darkness and just silently hoped that you wouldn't fall to your death by some unfortunate misstep.

The party rounded the corner and then in all its glory _he_ sat upon a throne: the Goblin King.

Legends said that it was the vilest and most revolting creature ever to exist upon Arda[1]. His breath was said to match his horrid physique and his irises should be a sickly yellow whilst the sclera[2] was terribly bloodshot. The legends were true, unfortunately for your stomach.

You had to hold back the urge to wretch when your nose caught his odour when you and the rest of the company were forced to stand before him. The _thing_ moved, causing the enormous and hideous dewlap underneath his lower jaw to slap against his chest with a sickening sound. His sick bulging eyes glanced around the group with amusement twinkling in them.

"Well, well, what have we here? Who are these miscreants?" The voice of the vile creature before you drawled. The company decided to stay silent and just glare at the being in front of them. A simple goblin stepped forward, bowing in reference to his king.

"We found them dwelling at the front gate, magnificent one." The goblin snarled and threw down their weapons at the feet of his king. You could see your own sword amongst the rest; your right hand longed to hold that hilt again. The Goblin King leaned back on his makeshift throne of bones, wood and things that you wouldn't dare name. There was even a dull golden crown planted on his gruesome head, which made you wonder to whom it used to belong to.

_'Poor bugger.'_

"Ah, and what were you _dwarves_ doing there?" the King mocked.

It still remained silent among the company. Causing the King to snicker a bit and gesture around. "We have plenty of devices to make you talk, bring in the Bonecrusher! We are going to have so much fun!" he cackled. His goblin minions agreed with much screeching and snarling.

Thorin then stepped forward, his steel eyes glowing with a fire from the inside as he spoke, trying to delude the King from their real intentions. "We are going to visit cousins and family-" He began but was quickly to be cut off by the laughter of creature before them. The Goblin King's oversized dewlap was now pounding and moving like never before. Then he stepped down from his throne and leaned in towards Thorin. You were amazed of the size this creature was; he was at least two times taller than Thorin and taller than any human you had ever seen, including Gandalf.

"Don't tell lies, Thorin Oakenshield. Oh yes, I know who you are and I know someone who would pay a great deal for your head. Just the head, though," he stated like it was a matter of fact and shrugged his warty shoulders. Thorin's eyes probably displayed some confusion because the King laughed once more, throwing its ugly head back and then refocused his bulging eyes on the dwarf before him.

"Well, Azog the Defiler of course! Didn't you know? He still dwells upon this earth." Thorin gritted his teeth and you could see him clenching his fists from behind.

"Azog is _dead_. I _killed_ him in the battle Azanulbizar," he spat venomously.

"He is still very much _alive_. Send the message that I caught his trophy for him." The King muttered against a rodent-like Goblin with amusement twinkling in his bulging eyes. The little fellow, screeched, scribbled something down on some paper and then rushed away as quickly as it could. The King then walked towards their weapons, taking up the sheathed Orcrist.

"Now, I think it's fair when we decapitate you with your own weapon, no?" He cackled and pulled the sword slowly out of it sheath. The moment the flicker of metal reached the bulging yellow eyes of the Goblin King, he screamed and threw it away like it had burned his hands. He hurried up and scrambled upon his thrown in fear, pointing at the sword. At the same time the rest of the Goblins around them started to grow restless, their weapons clutched tightly in their little fists.

"That is Orcrist; the Goblin Cleaver! How did you get it?! Never mind. Kill them! Crush them! Throw them in the snake pits never to see daylight **AGAIN**!" The King screamed, rage filling his vision as he charged right at Thorin with his mouth spared wide open.

Within a blink of an eye, the company got moving like they were one single mind. You ducked jumped towards the weapons and tossed them towards the dwarrow and Orcrist at Thorin; whom fended off the King with a quick swipe of the blade. Causing the King to stumble back in fear and fall over the edge with a yelp. You managed to get a hold on your own sword, clutching it tightly with your life and not a moment too soon; the goblins were upon them.

Then _he_ came.

-

A sudden white light blinded every soul in the area; including the dwarrow. The goblins screeched in dismay but every sound was silenced by the shattering shockwave that followed. Knocking dwarf and goblin alike flat on the scaffold they were standing on, causing the wooden structure to dangerously moan.

"Get up! Quickly!" A familiar voice yelled, causing the dwarves to perk their ears and the goblins look around them; bewildered.

Gandalf emerged from the darkness, his alighted staff and Glamdring clutched in his hands. His beard furrowed as he gestured to the company whom quickly gotten up. The goblins, who were also thrown on their backs by the shockwave, were also slowly coming round. Balin was pulled up by Dwalin in a swift movement whilst Dori and Nori took their time to quickly cut down a few Goblins before heeding Gandalf's words.

"Don't dally! Hurry! We need to run, before they are upon us! Follow me!" The wizard spoke and wildly gestured to the company, his voice deep and commanding. Thorin and co. quickly went after the reappeared friend of theirs. As if on que goblins emerged from every hole and crevice you could think of and chased right after them.

Dwalin then rounded the corner, cutting a goblin down effectively with his axe, and noticed dozens of goblins charged right at them over a narrow makeshift bridge. "Pole!" The warrior yelled and with quick thinking he, Nori, Gloin, Bofur and Bifur chopped the robes that held the pole and charged right at the goblins. Effectively pushing them in bands of four over the edge and into the vast and dark abyss below them.

Ayne guessed that he wasn't all brawls after all; he still had some brain left too!

Somehow she and the remaining dwarves of the party got separated from the 'Pole-charging five'. She followed Gandalf running on a scaffold above the other five dwarves and managed to cut down a few vile goblins here and there that tried to take her off guard. Good luck with that.

Even though Gandalf was considered a very old man -whom liked good food and a good puff of smoke here and there- he was certainly effective with that staff and sword of his. Knocking goblins from their scaffold here and there with his staff and with the occasional slice and cut with Glamdring. Somehow it made Ori think of confetti raining down! Only not upon them, but in the belly of the earth.

In the distant Thorin spotted goblins grabbing robes and trying to sling themselves across the chasm towards the dwarves. But Thorin had a better idea:

"Cut the ropes!" he yelled. So Balin, Gloin and Òin did; making the scaffold above them tumble and fall towards the goblins. Unable to stop in mid-air, they flung around the structure like grabbling hooks and took it down with them into darkness.

Balin heaved, his brow sweaty and his heart thumping thickly in his chest. _'I'm really getting too old for this,_' the white-bearded dwarf thought as sprinted to keep with the group. Bombur managed to take a few good hits with his giant spoon, knocking some goblins unconscious whilst he ran after his kin. Then someone grabbed his shoulder and he looked up to meet stormy eyes.

"Don't worry, Balin. You can do it." Ayne muttered, her eyes looking wild around her like she was some kind of a wild animal filled with adrenaline. Balin could see sweat trickling down her temple and noticed the grip on her blade was much too tight and tense for just simple goblins. Letting the matter drop; the old dwarf nodded, knowing that he could and had to keep up. Otherwise this place would be his grave and that was something he wasn't quite fond off.

Gandalf let the reunited company over a very wobbly bridge, filled with holes. It was a wonder to Thorin that no one had experienced a misstep and fallen into the darkness below them during their wild cat and mouse chase. Then, out of the blue, the Goblin King broke through the bridge; making it even more unstable and groan at the weight of all fourteen dwarves, Gandalf, goblins, the Goblin King on it and the ho- Wait. Where was Bilbo?

"You shall not leave! You will die!" The foul beast cried out, his crown almost falling from his head as he scrambled upon his feet hasty and with a rusted sword clutched in his thick fist. The Goblin King charged forward, knocking over Gandalf effectively, who was in turn caught by the dwarves and pushed back upon his feet.

Gloin uttered a small victorious 'yes!' when the wizard slapped the Goblin King across the face with his staff; like mother would slap a child on the cheek. Baffled, the creature cupped his now blotchy cheek and was unable to react on the swift swipe of Glamdring across the knees; severing the tendons effectively.

The moment he had fallen at the mercy of the wizard, the mouth of the Goblin King opened in the shape of a big 'O'. "Please?" He muttered softly, his eyes pleading and his- Suddenly Gandalf cut of his head with a clean swipe; earning some approving whistles from Dwalin and Bifur.

The large body plumping down was too much of a weight for the scaffold and thus is broke, sending the poor dwarves racing down in the abyss. Ori managed to hold one just for dear life as he screamed his lungs out along with the rest of the dwarves. Like it was a miracle the scaffold scraped against the other side of the far wall, slowly it down effectively without destroying it.

Gandalf helped Ayne and Thorin to their feet, whom rolled out of the structure and started to dust themselves off. The mess before them was a mixture of wood, dwarves and dust and the dwarrow started to groan and get up.

"Well.. that could've been worse," Bofur said quite relieved as he tilted back his hat.

Like the heavens punished the dwarves, the enormous decapitated and warty body of the Goblin King landed on top of them, effectively crushing the dwarves still stuck in the mess. Strings of colourful curses rose from the dwarrow amongst painful moaning. "You've got to be kidding me!" Dwalin muttered, his moustache ruffled and dirt plastered on his face as the weight seemed to be enormous.

-

After a huge effort you, Gandalf and Thorin managed to get the dwarves out one by one, each with a ruffled beard or two and some small cuts and bruises from the fighting –or falling. When everyone was out and checked if their gear was complete a loud screeching sound from above reached their ears.

Nori looked up and his eyes went to the size of dishes. "By the gods-" he began, but never finished his sentence. Thousands and thousands of goblins raced down the steep slope you and the company had fallen from with scaffold. A thick lump started to form within your throat as your face paled at the immense number of enraged goblins running down toward the company.

"What do we do? There are too many," Dori cried out, his voice wavering.

"The only thing that can save us now is daylight. **RUN!**" Gandalf roared, forcing the dwarves to move with his voice but not you. No, you were petrified of the horde racing down towards you. Someone took a hold of your hand and yanked you with them, forcing you break your glance and move.  
Balin was holding your hand tight as he pulled you along when the path before them started to climb a bit.

Kili rounded the corner and a faint shimmer of light caught his eyes. "There it is! The end of the cave!" His voice pitching in excitement with a flicker of panic. The company ran as fast as they could, hearing the screams and screeches of the goblins right behind them as they slowly closed in on them.

The moment you stepped out into the sweet light of a setting sun was like you stepped into a nice bath. Relief washed over you the moment the golden-orange rays of the sun touched your skin. You released Balin's hand, only to bend over and support your upper torso with your hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath.

Nausea, caused by fatigue, overwhelmed you and caused you almost to wretch a couple of times. The sounds of compliments of the dwarves reached into your ear canal and you felt a few reassuring pats on your back every so often. You glanced up to see the rest of the dwarves leaning against the trees, wiping their brows and grinning at each other.

Your eyes travelled up to the trees and your face paled when you recognized the type.

_Pine trees._

-

"Thirteen, fourteen- Where is Bilbo? Has anyone seen Bilbo?" Gandalf gasped, looking around wildly in the hope that he had overlooked the hobbit. Alas, he was nowhere to be seen. The dwarves started to shout for the Hobbit, but there was no response nor sudden appearance. Dori nudged his younger brother Nori then.

"Say, wasn't he behind you when we were caught by the goblins?"

All eyes focused on the dwarf with the 'star-shaped' hair and his braided eyebrows. Slowly the dwarf nodded, rethinking back about that. "Yeah, but he disappeared. Just like that."

Thorin gritted his teeth, walked around and seething. "Of course he left us! He has been moaning and groaning about his little warm_ bed_ and a roof on top of his head the moment he stepped foot out of the Shire." Thorin's grey eyes were blazing with rage. Balin tried to soothe his friend, but to no avail as Thorin wildly gestured and paced around. Pine apples crushing beneath his stomping feet.

"He can't even fend for himself. It's good that he is left."

Then a cough was heard, causing everyone to turn around and there was Bilbo stepping from behind a tree. For a moment Bifur could see a flicker of surprise in Thorin's eyes, but that was quickly over-clouded by other emotions. Bilbo spoke, explaining that he did have a home and did want to go there. But it touched everyone that he also said that because they hadn't; he wanted to help and reclaim it back.

Ori walked up behind Ayne, whom had not moved nor paid any attention to what was happening behind her. When he touched her shoulder, she flinched heavily and her hand immediately went to her sword. Ori could tell that something was wrong.

"Hey, it's me! What's wrong?"

Ayne's eyes shifted from the tree in front of her to the young and naïve dwarven scholar next to her. Her face was an eerie white and she slowly turned around, shaking her head. "Nothing- it's nothing." She muttered, her voice shakier than Ori could remember. It also caught the attention of the rest of the dwarves.

Bilbo felt himself grow uneasy as he noticed the wild stare in the woman's eyes; who was trying to smile and shrug it off like it was nothing –whatever she was feeling. Then his ears perked and a fear coiled around his heart when a familiar sound echoed from the forest around them. A howl ripped through the air, and then was quickly followed by more and more. Thorin looked around himself wildly as they seemed to appear from everywhere.

"Look!" Gloin pointed to the hill above them and there they saw their worst nightmare; Wargs charging down, howling and growling.

"From the frying pan- " Thorin began, his teeth gritting.

"And into the fire. Everyone in the trees! RUN!" Gandalf barked, causing everyone to move. Ayne was one of the first to reach the far end of the trees as Wargs slowly closed in on them. Some were faster than the rest but with either cut down by Kili's arrows or Dwalin's axe. The female dwarf climbed up like a mountain and settled on the lowest branch. Pulling up Thorin and other dwarves.

Bilbo was the last to get up in the trees and was pulled up just in time by Dori, for the Wargs were now flogging beneath them. Growling and snarling at the trees. Ayne slowly crawled up a few branches higher in the tree, but tried not swing it out of balance; a pine tree could only hold so many dwarrow.

Then there was a laughter that turned everyone's hearts into ice. It was joyless, filled with sadistic amusement and promises of torture.

Everyone focused in the white figure that glared at them from beneath the trees and Thorin could feel his heart flare up in rage as he clutched the branch he was on tightly. His stormy eyes barely saw a thing as he focused on the being below them with such intense hatred that could kill a man with simple glare.

Azog the Defiler looked up at them, and grinned.

* * *

**Additional AN: **[1] Arda is basically Earth.  
[2] Sclera is the white of your eye.

Gandalf does say RUN! a lot in this chapter doesn't he? It was hard for me to remember the exact lines the Goblin King said, but I threw in some stuff from the book to make up for it :) Next chapter is going to be almost 4000(!) words long. So I suggest you prepair for it! (It was hell.)


	12. Chapter 12: Azog

**Author's Notes:**So here is your long chapter! Man, this was a bitch to write. I suggest listening to some epic music whilst reading this to heighten your reading experience! It certainly helped for me ;)

The next chapter is going to take a while since I am switching over to the book-version, which was also the reason why I let Azog die since I don't know Peter Jackson's planning with him in _The Desolation of Smaug_or even beyond that. So, I am going to have the book next to me whilst writing to stay as truthful to the main story as possible (with a few intakes of myself here and there like the bear and the cave in previous chapters). That means that it is going to be a little while longer for chapters to appear since I don't know the book THAT good.

Anyways, I hope Azog isn't too OCC and Ayne is too cheesy for you tastes. Enjoy!

Pardon for any grammar mistakes if you see some. I was too busy mapping out ideas in my head as quickly as possible x3

EDIT: Oh god, I made such a huge mistake! I wrote _pineapples_ instead of _pinecones_. Hahaha! It took a while to realize my mistake until my brother pointed it out. Stupid dutch-mind! :shakefist:

* * *

Chapter 12: Azog

"Get them. Tear the flesh from their bones and feast on their organs, but leave Thorin _Oakenshield _alive. He's mine!" The pale orc hissed, his white Warg howling beneath him. On que the other Wargs started to assault the trees the company was in, tearing down branches whilst they tried to get to the dwarves with snapping jaws.

"Higher! We need to get higher!" Dwalin yelled and so the dwarves did; they climbed higher to the very top. You held onto for dear life as the trees were shaking because of the sheer force the Wargs were pounding upon the bark. Then the inevitable occurred; the tree next to yours started to come down.

"Jump! Quickly!" You screamed to the dwarves, standing upon your own branch. The sun had by now vanished from the sky and darkness was setting in. The pine tree collided with your own tree and you felt it began to tilt slowly but steady because of the momentum and weight of the other tree.

"Shit. Everyone, jump!" Thorin cursed, his voice filled with pure adrenaline. Sheer panic coated your mind and made you execute a wild uncoordinated jump towards the tree Gandalf had manifested himself into. The branches became closer and closer as you reached out in the air and when you were at your peak velocity, your face paled.

You weren't going to make it.

A yelp tore itself at your throat as you fingers just grazed the bark of the branch you had aimed for, but couldn't get any grip on it. Just when it dawned on you that you were about to be dog food a hand caught yours and quickly heaved you up before the snapping jaws of the Wargs caught your legs. Òin pulled you onto the branch and ushered to get you to climb higher and higher.

"Oh no! We're trapped!" Bilbo gasped, looking around in the hope some tree decided to pop out of nowhere and save them from the Wargs surrounding their tree.

The smell of fire then drifted up your nostrils and forced your gaze up to the tip of the tree where Gandalf sat. He threw pinecones, blazing with fire, to the Wargs; some caught fire whilst others were smart enough to back down or fast enough to avoid them.

"Quickly! Throw them!" The wizard encouraged as he dropped smouldering pinecones to the rest of the dwarves as others threw them up for the wizard to set ablaze. Losing not another second, the company assaulted the horrendous creatures with burning pinecones from their safe tree. The beasts howled in pain and their natural fear of fire kicked in.

As a result of the blazing cones the trees that had fallen down were also catching fire and worked as an effective barrier between the company and the foul beasts and Azog. The pale orc growled in annoyance, his teeth gritted and his right hand clutching his gigantic sword whilst the claw –that supposed to replace his left arm- brushed through the fur of his white Warg.

Bofur and the rest of the dwarves yelled in victory as the assault on their lone tree at the edge of the cliff stopped, but soon their yells turned into gasps of surprise and panic when their 'safety tree' started moan dangerously and slowly tip.

In a state of panic you held onto your branch as the roots of the tree slowly started to tear itself out of the earth and the tree finally completely tipped over. Ori slipped off from his branch with a yelp, but managed to hold onto his brother Dori whom held onto a branch for dear life.

The fire was blazing ferociously, feeding from the wood with a great hungers as the embers rose up high in the sky, lighting up each face in an eerie red light. You could feel the heat of the fire on your face and sweat started to mingle with the dirt on your face as you tried to hold on for dear life on the branch like every other dwarf did. Dori gasped as he was unable to hold onto his branch. With quick thinking of Gandalf, he managed to get a hold on the wizard's staff. Ori cried out in fear as the enormous depth below dazzled him.

"Thorin Oakenshield, are you a coward!? Don't you want to revenge your family you weakling? You failed king!"

Your ears caught Azog howling for Thorin with amusement in his voice. Fueled with rage and a blazing feeling of revenge the dwarven future-king rose up from the tree. His sword Orcrist emanated a faint blue light and his eyes stared straight ahead. You scrambled on the branch, trying to raise yourself desperately.

"Thorin! No! NO!" Your voice pitched as he marched on the tree trunk, his gaze only focused at the pale orc before him.

Everything fell silent around Thorin as he started to break into a run with a roar coming from his throat and his sword held high. His heart was thumping thickly in his blood surging ears. He felt every ounce of anger and rage pour out of his pores as he took up more speed, his legs sending him flying between the burning pine trees.

Azog's silver eyes grew with excitement each step the prince took. The Warg beneath him slowly sank through its legs, building up energy. When Thorin was close enough the white Warg pushed itself off with a roar matching that his master on top of his back.

You watched as he landed almost on top of the prince and fear sank in your gut when the mighty jaws of the Warg bit down, making Thorin roar in pain as he was thrown around like a ragdoll. With a firm blow on the nose the Warg had let go of the prince with a soft whine, only to follow with an enraged growl.

With adrenaline surging in your veins managed to scramble upon the trunk with wavering hands and feet. Balin caught your eyes and even though he said nothing you knew what you had to do because it was righteous; because you swore it that night in Rivendell and you were a woman of your word.

-

_'Save him.'_Balin's lips mouthed soundlessly. The woman in front of him nodded firmly, her eyes filled with a raging fire that he hadn't seen before since the battle of Azanulbizar. It wasn't something blind that filled her, no. It was utter determination, serenity and inner strength that made her the beautiful woman that she was before him. A woman whom had experienced hardships that some people couldn't grasp and still kept motivated in the end.

Ayne's lips were pulled into a thin grim line and her brows wrinkled in upper concentration as she unsheathed her sword and raised herself up, her chin held high and leadership radiating from her; giving the dwarves hanging on the tree hope again. "Hang on." She whispered to them, her voice hoarse but tender nonetheless. Then, she moved faster than they had ever seen her do before; silent and deadly.

An orc walked up to Thorin, ordered to slice his throat and when he was about to strike down a glowing sword blocked his. The orc screeched, looking up surprised before a second later his head was severed from his body. Ayne kicked it away, spatting on the ground with a sign of disgust on her face. A quick look at Thorin made her even more determined of her cause and a sharp whistle erupted from her lips, effectively gaining the attention of the pale orc on his steed.

"Another willing sacrifice, I see. And a very familiar one at that. Tell me, Ayne the Betrayer; have the journey faired you well?" There was a sick twist at Azog's lips as he slowly walked towards the woman, knowing that she feared him a lot the way her sword trembled in her hands.

Ayne took a deep breath and forced herself to look in the Orc's eyes, soothing the fear inside her and allowing her mind to become calm and calculated as she took a few steps towards him and away from Thorin to keep him safe. If she lost it; everyone was doomed to die. She twisted her sword in her hand, seeing that the yellow eyes of the white Warg trailed the tip of it.

"You will die, Azog. I warn you; turn away now." Her voice was low and threatening, but nonetheless quite amusing to the pale orc; whom laughed mockingly at her.

"I? Die? Your failure of a king tried to do that decades ago and here I am still. After all we've been through, you want fall victim to me just like Durin's lineage? I should have killed you slowly and painfully when you still wished and begged to be dead." Azog spat, his hand gesturing to a motionless Thorin.

"I am not afraid of death; I welcome it. If it means to save my true king by dying, then so be it. Attack me or are you soiling your pants, you big pansy!?" Ayne provoked, her teeth gritted and her sword ready. She could see Azog's small eyes daze over for just a short moment before her growled at her enraged.

His white Warg charged at her with the speed of lightening, but she was way faster. Ayne side-stepped in a blink of an eye, surprising the Warg and Azog. With a powerful thrust, her sword embedded itself in the beast's head, making it yelp in pure agony and fall on the ground; sending Azog to land on his knees in the dirt.

Ayne tore back her weapon from the beast's head. Dark red blood gushed from the wound and dripped from the glowing metal of her sword on to the ground. The Warg twitched momentarily, before it finally lied there; silent and dead. Azog rose on his feet, towering over the small form of the female dwarf whom swallowed thickly. The fire behind the pale orc made the outlines of his stature glow an eerie orange and he strode towards her with anger fuelling his bulging muscles.

-

You stepped back, for a moment taken back at the enormous brute before you whilst your blood was thumping thickly in your ears. In the corner of your eyes you could see the rest of the company engage fight with the other Orcs and Wargs as they swarmed the place. Azog snarled before you and raised his gigantic blade high up in the air.

The moment he struck down, you were in time to block it but was so taken back by the sheer power of it that you had to back down for a moment and shove his sword away with the sound of scraping metal. Sparks flew around as you kept parrying the strikes of the gigantic Orc and he roared frustrated. Sweat was dripping down your brow as you tried to keep your focus whilst screams and yelps of the other dwarves echoed in your ears.

A gasp left you throat when you stumbled back over the root of a burning tree. You landed flat on your back in the ashes and the dirt, the sword thrown from your hand. Fear once again held your heart when you watched Azog loom over you in all his fury, his silver eyes twinkling with mirth.

"I am going to enjoy cutting you and your filthy dwarves up." He whispered, but it was loud enough for your ear canal to pick up. Everything around you fell away when your blue eyes tracked his raising sword. A drop of sweat glided down your temple and throat, which swallowed thickly as you felt your life flashing by your eyes.

Then something unexpected happened; namely something small and little collided against the giant pale orc, throwing him off balance and taking his attention. He swung with his sword but the little Bilbo was too small and too fast for the large and furious swipes of the blade. Your eyes tore themselves from the scene before you and instantly found your glowing sword on the ground; waiting to be held by you.

Granting the sword's 'wish', your hand closed around it and scrambled on your feet, facing the orc now once again. You roared, catching Azog by surprise as you slammed your sword in his abdomen. Bilbo took a few steps back, breathing heavy from the dodging as his held his own blade called tightly in his fist.

Black blood oozed from the cracked lips of the vile creature as you slowly turned your sword and started to force it upwards with as much strength as you could manage. Azog managed to take a hold of your hair, trying to tear you away but you didn't and allowed whole pieces of golden hair to be ripped from your skull.

Azog cocked back his head as a sick and gurgling sound came from his throat when the sound of snapping bones filled the air around the two of you. A scream erupted from your throat as you put your back into it one last time and the sword shot up from his abdomen straight to his throat. With a sharp movement you pulled it out of the pale orc –spraying black blood all over you- and decapitated it with a strong swing.

The hold on your hair lessened, but the hand didn't open up enough to save it. So with a calculated swipe, you cut off the long and golden locks and stumbled back your heart thumping thickly in your chest and a warm breeze caressed your dirty face. Then the whole battlefield came in your view:  
Orcs had swarmed the place and every dwarf was fighting for a single goal; Thorin.

-

The hobbit had stood back and watched the whole ordeal with a trembling hand and heart, he had never seen her so feral. "Bilbo, come!" Ayne snatched Bilbo's hand and pulled him along after smearing the black blood out of her own eyes. The two dodged small clusters of Orcs that stood between them and the company. Eru have mercy on the Orcs that did stand in Ayne's way.

"Baggins! Look after Thorin! Everyone, protect Thorin!" She screamed, her voice almost dying on her but it was loud enough for everyone to hear and gathered around, their weapons ready and eyes one the approaching and snarling Orcs. Smoke was filling Ayne's lungs as the fire on the pine trees roared higher and mightier than before. But she refused to cough and stared at the approaching horde with watering eyes, never blinking and with a mad fire still blazing in those blue depths.

"Here they come, everyone. Give it all you've got." Her voice snarled, encouraging the hearts of the dwarves whom had no time to notice her new make-shift haircut. Bilbo had kneeled down next to Thorin behind the company. The prince was not moving and his breathing was way too shallow. No matter how hard the hobbit shook him, he gave no reaction whatsoever.

Kili and Fili stood shoulder to shoulder as the distance between them and the Orc horde closed more every second that past. They shared glances momentarily, knowing that it was fight or die. Seconds before the Orc horde would collide with the barricade of dwarves the sound of a bird pierced through the air.

Something gigantic flew over their head and enormous talons snatched the front row of Orcs away, only to throw in the great abyss below the cliff the company was standing upon. Bilbo looked up, just to duck in time when a huge Eagle flew over his head and snatched up a few dwarves. But the Eagles didn't throw the dwarves away, no. They circled around, holding them safely but not tight between their talons.

Then the hobbit spotted a robed figure on one of the birds; Gandalf. Some of the Eagles threw away the Orcs whilst others saved the dwarves pair by pair. Ayne and Bilbo were knocked over the edge by one, only to be fall on the back of another. Finally Thorin was gently scooped up into the large claws of a magnificent hazel coloured bird. His yellow eyes sharp and all-knowing.

When every single one of the dwarves was saved, they rose; leaving the remaining Orcs and the flaming pine trees to burn. A sigh of relief left the woman's lips behind Bilbo.

-

"We did it.. we're all safe!" The hobbit whispered in front of you, disbelief colouring his voice when he looked back at the retreating notorious cliff. You ruffled his ginger curled with one hand whilst the other kept entwined in the feathers of the Eagle you were seated upon. The light of dawn started illuminate the horizon on the east, but it didn't lighten your mind as your body started to finally ache when the adrenaline gently seeped out of your bloodstream.

"No, not all of us. Not yet." Your voice was barely a whisper and that was all you could manage at that moment, but it was enough to pull the hobbit down from his high and rethink on his words. You saw his head turn to the proud Eagle that held Thorin, his body limp in its powerful talon. Then the hobbit fell silent.

The wind caressed your bloodied face and played with the new short locks on top of your head when the Eagles soared through the endless skies that turned brighter and brighter with each passing minute. Finally the pale light of the morning sun shone on the flock of Eagles. The beauty of the outstretched and waking wilderness below you was breath-taking, yet you could not enjoy it to the fullest since your mind was occupied with something else.

Finally the Eagles landed on a high rocky platform, placing down everyone gently and patiently waiting for their riders to slide off –albeit a bit ungracefully.

You immediately fell on your knees beside Thorin's limp body, feeling for a heartbeat that he didn't have. "Gandalf, he's not breathing!" Desperately your fingers pressed against his jugular vein in his neck, but there was nothing. You pressed harder; there was still nothing. Panic was threatening to overcome you before a certain wizard who kneeled down beside you.

His free hand hovered above the prince and incoherent mumbling left Gandalf's lips. Your own cracked ones broke into a smile when you saw Thorin give a sign of life. Sounds of relief was heard amongst the dwarves around you and the moment the prince opened his steel coloured eyes you jumped on your feet and took a step back when Gandalf helped him up.

"There, there. Welcome back, Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin glanced around, his eyes narrow when they found you standing stood a bit to the side of the group. You knew that you must have looked hideous with all the black Orc blood on your face and your chopped hair. You startled when he spoke, stepping back as he advanced on you with his eyes fierce.

"You. Why did you do that? You have put us all in peril by your actions whilst you acted selfish and alone," Thorin's baritone voice scolded you. Eventually you stopped backing and lowered your gaze, knowing in how much danger everyone had been in when the prince stopped right in front of you. You didn't look up when you felt his steel gaze glare at your averted eyes.

Bilbo could feel disbelief seeping into his being as he watched you being scolded like a child to Thorin. Bofur wanted to walk up and had his mouth already open to say something back to defend you, but he was hold back by Bifur with a hand on his shoulder and a firm shake of his cousin's head.

Out of the blue Thorin grabbed the hem of your coat and pulled you into a firm hug, despite the mess you were. For a moment you were too stunned to react, but slowly you placed your hands on the back of the taller dwarf. His embrace was warm and conjured a cheeky smile on your lips.

"But yet you saved me and everyone. You were acting selfish, but brave and I thank you." His voice whispered in your ear. Slowly he pulled back, his hands on your shoulders as his eyes were intensely focused on you, almost making you a bit embarrassed.

"You have displayed courage that I failed to see within you," the prince spoke and had let go of you only to kneel before your very form. "For that I want to offer my deepest apologies. Forgive me, lady Ayne."

You scratched the back of your head and laughed a bit sheepishly. "I was doing my mere duty, my future-king. But you are forgiven. I am glad you're not dead." You gave the prince a pat on his head and smiled when he looked up a bit baffled.

"Look.." Ori then softly uttered, catching the attention of everyone. He pointed to the east and you followed his fingers. A smile curled on Thorin's lips and his face slowly relaxed, which made you feel little happy inside for some reason.

In the distance there was one single solitary mountain beaming like a beacon at the company. Gandalf hummed pleased as he leaned on his staff and nodded. "There it is. The Lonely Mountain."

"Our home." Thorin whispered, entranced by the sight of the mountain.

Bofur came up at you and wiped with a napkin some of the blood from your cheek. "Say, Ayne. How did you get all the blood on you? It almost looks like you butchered thousands of Orcs and dipped your faced in their blood. Kinky haircut by the way." He cheekily muttered whilst folding the napkin inside out and wiped your other cheek.

You shrugged in a matter of fact, letting him wipe away as he pleased whilst the rest of the company was checking themselves for any injuries and their remaining supplies –which wasn't much. "Just killed Azog the Defiler, not something noteworthy or anything."

"What?"


	13. Chapter 13: Plan

**Author's Notes: **I tried to make this chapter a bit angsty (for Ayne at least). I figured that no one could come out of a battle unscathed when they had experienced true terror and had blood and gore sprayed all over them -even a battle hardened person.

It has to do something with you right?

Sorry for this 'wtf' chapter xD

* * *

Chapter 13: Plan

After the Eagles had left the company, the dwarves started moving. They needed a place to sit down and think of their plan ahead -and what was better than the little stream downhill? That stream was one of the many creeks that were branching off the great river the Anduin only to form small lakes or disappear underground. Its water was fresh and so clear that you could see the bottom and fish scurry about. The hobbit, dwarves and wizard settled down on rocks, their boots and socks pulled off only to lower their feet into the cold but refreshing water. The sun made the water often look like liquid silver as it flushed downhill to an unknown destination.

A tune was drifting through the air starting with Balin, whom was seated on a rock near the river with a makeshift fishing rod in his hands and a pot next to him that was already filled with a couple of fish. The tune caused some dwarves to hum it and few to whistle; it was the tune that they had sung at Bilbo's house when they apparently 'cleaned up' his dishes. Nori had told you earlier that it was called _Blunt the Knives_or something.

Anyways, it was a quite a catchy and merry tune as you was seated on a boulder with your bare feet dangling in the water, the sleeves of your red linen shirt and your trousers rolled up to the knees and elbows. You had a wet napkin in clutched in your hand, whilst the other tried to keep the person in front of you to stop moving.

"Don't squirm, are you a dwarf or not?" Your voice scolded to the one sitting opposite of you. Steel eyes flashed a bit irritated at you when you gently started to clean the gash that was across Thorin's nose. Your other hand stabilizing his head by placing it on his forehead.

His fur-lined coat and armour were lying underneath a tree that everyone used to dispose their excessive clothing, boots and armour to freshen themselves up –including yours. Underneath all that armour, Thorin wore a simple and loose dark blue linen shirt and dark pants. It was quite the eye-candy of how it hung over his broad shoulders and the loose collar giving you some hints of well-formed chest muscles.

"There. It doesn't need stitching since it's quite shallow. It will heal up quite nicely." You leaned to the side and rinsed out the cloth in the cold, flowing water that curled around your ankles. For the last time your cleaned the wound slowly –that had since long stopped bleeding- and also wiped away the remnants of the blood from the prince's cheeks in slow and rhythmic movements.

His breathing was almost inaudible as he piercing eyes tracked your movement –burning with unvoiced questions. A lump started to form in your throat as his silent, investigating gaze held your own. Finally you managed to retreat yourself and your hand after you had finished, finally running a hand through your now shoulder-length golden locks when you rinsed out the napkin for a final time.

"Why did you do it?"

His baritone voice was soft, but still had a stern undertone in it. You pulled up an eyebrow as you twisted and turned the napkin, squeezing the remaining water out of it and then shook it, shaking the wrinkles out of the cloth. The dwarves were laughing behind you in the small creek, splashing each other wet and relaxing since quite some time.

Bofur and Bifur were playing the flute alongside Balin's merry tune that Dwalin also seemed to him as he cleaned and sharpened his weapons once more. Ori was seated underneath a tree, reading a book whilst his bare toes were playing absently in the moist gravel. His brothers Dori and Nori were helping Bombur with food, that were merely containing out of some scraps that they had left –everything was lost when they fell into the Goblin hole.

Gandalf and Bilbo were seated a bit away from the company, talking with each other and Gandalf pointing out the giant staircases that were called Carrock; made by Beorn, chieftain of the Beornings and a shape-shifter.

"Did what?" You muttered softly, though you had a feeling where this was going.

"Why did you engage Azog? It could have been your death if it wasn't for the hobbit," Thorin briskly asked. You stood up and lay in the sun on a rock to dry. Thorin's grey eyes followed your movements and watch as you sat back down on the boulder in front of him.

"Because it was my du-"

"You have already told me that, but the more I think of it the more I suspect that it isn't as simple as that." The prince had backfired at you, leaving you almost at a loss for words as you kept your eyes averted and looked over to the rest of the company; whom were greatly enjoying the water and refreshing themselves.

"Because you are their king, their leader. If you were going to die, what purpose will they have left? You are their beacon, their hope. Am I supposed to be the one to do nothing and let that beacon perish?" You whispered softly. Thorin noticed that your gaze was slowly getting hazy as if your mind was occupied with deeper thoughts than you were planning to share.

"It was an impulsive decision to crawl upon the trunk and distract Azog; but a natural one because you are also my king and beacon as well. One that I wish to protect just like the others. I have already told and swore you this," you whispered and glanced side-ways at the future-king with sharp eyes. "Yes, I was close to dying; but I didn't. I may have lost most part of my hair and receive a few ugly bruises in return, but it was worth it."

You didn't mention the dream that you had in the cave, the one about betraying the company and dying with it, nor the fear that had coursed through you when you were fighting the pale orc and was still thumping in your veins. But there was one thing no one would deny; you had changed since last night.

Bilbo had noticed that there was a harder gleam in your eyes after they had said good bye to the eagles. Also when Bofur cracked a joke, your voice laughed but your eyes didn't. It was something that the hobbit couldn't put his fingers on as he watched you stand up and walk away from Thorin, only to snatch Fili from his brother to clean up his wounds and treat his bruises with a home-made salve. You were looking more like a weathered warrior – the shorter hair and bruises emphasized that.

Gandalf nudged Bilbo slight with his elbow and broke off his train of thought. Just time, because Thorin had stood up and now walked towards them. His long black manes –streaked with silver here and there- draped across his broad shoulders; dancing with every step the dwarf took. He sat down on a rock in front of them and his steel eyes focused on the wizard.

"We need a plan. Our supplies are running dangerously low and we need the quickest way to the mountain, from where-ever we are. " Thorin glanced at Gandalf, who was stroking his beard as he looked up at the cobalt blue skies. Bilbo could hear the wizard hum slightly before his warm grey eyes focused on the prince.

"We can go to Beorn, ask for directions and he can supply us. IF we can find him. We can't stay here and waiting for him to pass, since these lands hold more horrid creatures than just Wargs. After I have acquainted everyone to him, and if that goes well, than I am afraid that I must leave you."

Bilbo's heart sank in his stomach and Thorin's eyes grew just a moment when an expression of surprise settled down on his face. "What, no! Gandalf!" The hobbit sputtered, but he was silenced when the wizard stuck up his hand to silence him.

"I _must _leave. Radagast told me of a Necromancer in the fortress of Dol Guldur and that matter has been troubling me since we arrived in Rivendell. I need to look into it. How long it will take I do not know, but I promise that I will re-join you once my mind is settled." The wizard had pulled up his dark grey and bushy eyebrows as he looked at Thorin, whose shoulders had slumped slightly at the news of the wizard leaving them.

"I will hold you to that, Gandalf," Bilbo whispered softly. Fear was holding his heart unwillingly, but it slowly dissipated when he felt Gandalf's large and warm hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry Bilbo, you are in capable and kind hands," the wizard nodded to Thorin, who's lips tucked upward in a very faint smile. It was a smile nonetheless.

"That you are, Mr. Baggings. I have yet to say thank you for your help during the orc raid. I had half-expected that you would flee to save your own skin, but I am surprised and moved that you didn't. You had even managed to save Ayne from a certain death and I even heard that you kept watch over me."

Bilbo felt his cheeks fluster as the prince bestowed the kindest words upon him. He stammered, trying to say a proper thank you, when Dori yelled that dinner was ready. His eyes travelled over his shoulder to the rest of the dwarves, who were now clustering around Bombur, including you, to get something to eat from the dwarf before he ate all of it himself.

The food was composition of scraps and that indicated of how low they were on food. The dwarrow could hunt, sure. But they didn't have to time to constantly search for food whilst they had to get to Erebor as fast as they could. If that journey also meant searching food it would take of twice of long, which the dwarves couldn't really permit.

You munched on the dried meat that was surprisingly tasteful –thanks to Bombur's cooking skills- and had pulled your boots back on. As you nibbled one a piece of bread your hand absently went to your hair. It kept bugging you that it wasn't long enough to put in a braid or something.

"The new haircut looks good on 'ya."

-

Ayne looked up from her thoughts, meeting dark chocolate. Bofur chuckled at the bewildered expression she wore as he took a bite of his meat. The woman before him huffed and shifted a bit uncomfortable on the boulder that her bum was planted upon after she focused her protruding gaze to her food once more. "That may be, master Bofur. But I feel awfully naked-"

"Well that's a sight I would like to see!" Kili roared, whistling and quirking his eyebrows at Ayne, who chuckled.

"Keep dreaming Kili, not going to happen," she chuckled, trying to act playful. Despite that, Bofur noticed that her eyes weren't playing along with her act. The young dwarf pouted nonetheless, given a small pat on the shoulders from his reassuring brother, Fili. Thorin then walked in the middle of the company, immediately gaining the absolute attention of the dwarves.

"I know we are all tired and beaten up, but we must face reality," Thorin began, his face serious as he looked around his beloved company. "We need supplies and fast. Gandalf knows someone who can grant us that, but we need to look for him. The Someone we are looking for is apparently called Beorn, he's a Man but also a Shape-shifter; one that can apparently turn into a giant black bear."

Thorin's gaze met that of Gandalf and immediately the wizard took a step forward and took over the attention of the dwarves. "Beorn is not someone you can ask questions. Like the Man he is, he lives on a farm in an oak forest under no-one's spell but his own. He keeps horses and cattle there, who work for him and talk to him. He doesn't hunt on wild animals, nor does he eat them. He mainly lives from the honey that his bees give him," the wizard breathed; his brows furrowed as he tried to recall who this Beorn persona was.

"That being said, we need to gather our stuff and be gone! For we cannot wait for him to appear since that can take days, weeks or months and there are other, more dangerous things that roam the wilderness than just Wargs."

Only minutes later the dwarrow walked down the hills and up the hills, down the hills and up the hills, again and again, clad in full armour and their pack on their backs. They had enough things to think and trouble their mind with, besides; they had quite the distance ahead. Bofur was sharing stories with the youngsters Ori, Fili and Kili -and to whom ever who was willing to listen- whilst the rest was softly chattering with each other or walking in silence.

Bilbo walked next to Ayne, who was silent with distant eyes. He hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder, immediately snapping her out of it and glare at the one that dared to disrupt her thoughts. The hobbit instantly regretted his action.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Ayne. But I have wanted to thank you-"

"For saving your life? It was either that or die no? Imagine that; hobbit-stew. You could have been that for what? A hundred times now? You need to grow some balls Mr. Baggings, and steel yourself. Not everything in the world is about a good smoke, fine food or a warm bed. You don't carry your sword just to look _tough_."

The words that rolled over her fine lips were harsher and held more venom than Bilbo thought they would. Ayne even seemed startled by it for an instant, but that surprised look in her eyes quickly vanished. The woman clenched her jaw and quickly averted her gaze to her feet as she took on a stronger pace, walking away from the Halfling.

Bilbo's slightly pointed ears could just pick up the soft whisper of a 'sorry' after the dwarf had left him and started to walk to the front of the company, revelling in the gentle silence that the leading Gandalf emanated. Bilbo's eyes met briefly those of Thorin and some of the other dwarves, but no one said a thing yet the hobbit knew that they were all thinking the same..

What was going on with Ayne?


	14. Chapter 14: Beorn

**Author's notes: **I figured that the previous chapter must have been confusing. I hope that this chapter clarifies it a lot! (how would you feel after that?) I find it real sweet and endearing :3 I hope it's not too OCC (and that there aren't too many grammar mistakes).

And holy cow.. I have f*cking written two chapters in one day! I NEVER do that! :O

Question: What is your favorite chapter so far and why?

* * *

Chapter 14: Beorn

By the late afternoon, the company had run across a huge open field that was filled with more flowers than Bilbo had ever seen in his life –and that counted for something! The sweet smell of honey wafted up his nostrils as they waded through the field. Some dwarves were careful not to damage the flowers and others just stomping through it like a bull (read: Dwalin). Anyway, there was a lot of buzzing and whizzing noises going about in the air.

Everywhere were busy bees, and not just any kind! Bilbo had never ever seen such a sight before. The bees were huge, bigger than hornets. The drones were bigger than your thumb, and the yellow rings on their deep black bodies shone like flaming gold. Gandalf seemed pleased by the sight, not in the slightest disturbed when a huge bee buzzed around his pointy hat, whilst the others tried to avoid the little buggers in the fear of being stung.

"Ah, we are nearly there," the wizard muttered with his deep and pleasant voice. "We are now at the edge of his land." The dwarves almost seemed to be muttering in relief that their ordeal was almost over, before they started to consider just how outstretched the lands of Beorn were when they exited the field after another hour or two.

When the sun was starting to set, driving out the cobalt blue colour of the sky –only to replace it with gold, pink and orange- the dwarrow arrived at a wall of enormous and ancient oak trees. Some were even thicker than the company if they stood aligned shoulder against shoulder. Behind the giant trees there was a high thorn bush that was so thick that you couldn't see through nor climb over it. Gandalf hummed softly too himself as he looked around almost casually, leaning slightly on his wooden staff.

"I suggest everyone waits here. When I call or whistle than you may follow me but only in pairs of two and between every pair five minutes apart," the wizard warned as he turned to the dwarves. "Bombur is the biggest and counts for two," the said dwarf pouted, "Come Mr. Baggins! In this area there must be a fence." And so the wizard left with the slightly terrified hobbit at his side.

Thorin looked around the band of dwarves at they slowly began to form pairs. His eyes settled on you with a silent question hidden inside the grey and murky depths. You nodded briefly, not uttering a word. Soon a sharp whistle was heard from behind the wall of oak trees. "Come," Thorin nudged your shoulder and you turned to follow him.

They walked passed a picket fence, which was tall and high, and arrived at some kind of courtyard. Horses, tall, slim and very well-nourished, looked at them with intelligent eyes; as if they had a mind of their own. As you and Thorin walked over a broad path that lead toward a gigantic home where Gandalf, Bilbo -and possibly Beorn- stood, the buzzing of bees filled the air as they flew in and out of their hives.

When you closed in you now really noticed how tall this Man was. He was at least two heads taller than Gandalf, with giant muscles on his bare arms and strong legs that stuck from beneath his woollen tunic –that reached till his knees. Beorn had a giant black beard –but no moustache- that was as wild and free like the hair on his head. His voice was deep and slightly menacing when he spoke.

"You meant one or three, I see," said Beorn. "But these aren't hobbits! These are dwarves!"

Thorin bowed deeply, you followed his example. "Thorin Oakenshield and Ayne, at your service!" You said in unison and bowed once more. An uneasy feeling arose in your gut as you straightened your back once more. How big was this man when he changed into a giant black bear?

"I have no need of your services, but I understand that you need mine?" The giant Man leaned on his enormous axe that he held in his hand; the muscles in his arms bulging with each simple movement. "You know, I am not that fond of _dwarves_," you swallowed thickly. "But if it's true that you are Thorin –son of Thraín, son of Thrór if I am correct- and that your companion is respectful _and_that you are the enemy of Goblins with no ill purpose to harm my land, I have to ask this; what are your plans?"

You almost felt out of breath when Beorn was talking without even pausing for another intake of oxygen. Thorin was looked at Gandalf for a moment, who smiled and looked up at the Man before him. "They are trying to reclaim the land of their forefathers east of Mirkwood," Gandalf pointed out. "It was dreadful journey through the Misty Mountains that would take us to the south of your lands, when Goblins overwhelmed us – like I was trying to tell you."

"Then for god's sake, continue!" said Beorn, who was never really polite.

"There was a horrendous thunderstorm; the stone giants were tossing boulders here and there and at the beginning of the mountain pas we sought refuge in a cave, the hobbit and several others of our companions-"

"You said several?"

"Actually, no. There were more than several."

"Well, where are they? Killed, eaten, went home?"

"Oh, no! It seems that all of them hadn't come when I whistled it seems. Shy, I suspect. You see, we are afraid that we are with too many to take advantage of your hospitality," the wizard hummed. Bilbo could see amusement twinkling in his dark grey eyes.

"Well, it seems that I have guests any way. One or two won't make any difference; call for them!"

Nori and Ori then followed and soon Dwalin and Balin. Then every five minutes the number of dwarves in front of Beorn grew and grew by two each single time. Finally Bombur was running behind Bifur and Bofur, not wanting to be last and a bit pissed about it. Beorn ran a hand across his face, groaning for a moment as Gandalf kept smiling innocently at him when he finally finished his _long_story. By this time, you were sitting on the ground and leaning with your back against a tree. Your stomach was growling furiously and by now the sun had almost completely dropped out of the sky; making it a bit hard to see the details of Beorn's face.

"A wonderful good story I might add," he said after he had rubbed the tiredness from his eyes. "The best that I have heard in a long time. If all beggars could tell such stories, they might though me of a friendlier fellow. It is always possible that you had made it all up, but you all deserve a good dinner nonetheless. Let's eat!"

"Ai! Yes, please!" The dwarves all cheered in unison. "Thank you!"

The great hall of Beorn's house was great alright. Four white ponies had lit the hall, letting it bask in a warm and orange glow. The Man whistled and the dogs started to stand on their hind legs to carry things and lit the central fireplace. The giant table was set with the help of the dogs and sheep –that had appeared with plates and utensils on their backs. Soon everyone was seated around the enormous table with Beorn at the head in an enormous chair and his long legs outstretched.

The food was melting on your tongue as you stuffed yourself. The last warm meal you've had was before the company had ventured into the horrid Misty Mountains, so this was a very welcome treat. The dwarves were chattering with each other and Beorn, flames dancing on their faces. Beorn told the dwarves wild tales of the lands on this side of the mountain, especially about the dark and dangerous forest that stretched itself far to the north and south, a day-trip ahead and blocking their way to the east; the horrendous Mirkwood forest.

The dwarves listened carefully to the man's words, because they knew that they had to venture into that forest and that it was the most dangerous part of their journey –aside from Smaug. After dinner the dwarves told stories of their own, especially Bofur, some lurking at their pipes and others listening quietly.

You slid yourself from your seat and walked over the large fireplace, the flames sending eerie shadows across your face that was wrinkled and filled with dark thoughts. You barely noticed that someone had been standing beside you, until that person scraped his throat. Startled, you looked into the kind eyes of the hobbit. Bilbo could there that there was pull at one corner of your lips as you inclined your head towards him, acknowledging his presence.

For a moment the two of you were silent, but then the hobbit began to speak as you crossed your arms over your chest. "You know, I have been thinking about what you said earlier," he slowly began. Making you feel a bit ashamed of your outburst, but you had dared not to apologize properly to the hobbit.

"And I have to agree with you. I indeed thought the world was just about good food, a warm bed and a good tobacco. But it isn't. It's about overcoming hardships, make do with what you have and treasure fine moments. I know that you are sorry about the words that you had said, but know that I have no hard feelings for it." Bilbo hesitated, but slowly placed a hand on your shoulder, one that you shrugged off.

"I know. Have you thought about taking up weapon training?" You glanced sideways to the hobbit, who seemed a bit uncomfortable to say the least. His hands fidgeted with his wine-red jacket and seem to fumble a bit with the pocket of his green waistcoat; his eyes grew a bit distant.

"Yes, Balin is going to teach me," the hobbit looked back up at you, worry displayed over his kind face. "You know, if there is anything wrong you can talk to me alright?" Bilbo slowly asked, his mind recalling the time that he had jumped against Azog in an impulse. He remembered seeing the look of pure terror on your blood drained face as if it had just happened; your eyes filled with fear and then sudden with rage the moment you drove your sword into his abdomen.

He blinked, noticing that you stared at him with blood ridden eyes before averting them back to the fire. "No thanks. I'm fine," you merely whispered and walked away.

Beorn had stopped taking notice to the dwarves as he seemingly grew tired of their tales of gold and metal –where he harboured no interest in. The Man stood up and left the dwarves to accompany themselves, opening the large and heavy door –that shielded them from the dark wilderness- and closing with a loud creaking noise and a bang. Darkness had taken over the world outside the home of Beorn as the dwarves sat around the fireplace, singing and talking; all except you.

You managed to crawl onto a window sill, one leg pulled up to your chest whilst the other dangled over the edge as your eyes gazed through the murky glass into darkness. Thorin walked over towards your lingering form and called your name, catching your attention. He gestured you to come down, with huff you focused your eyes back ahead. "I am sitting here just fine."

"Ayne?" his baritone voice was deep and stern and left no room for debate.

Sighing in defeat, you jumped down, landing gracefully on your feet and shook their hair out of your face. "Yes?" your tongue sharp and witty.

"Out with it." The prince crossed his arms over his chest and his eyes took a hold of your own, searching them for any clue what could possibly be wrong with you. You merely shrugged at his command and turned to walk away.

"I have no idea wh-"

A warm hand took a hold of your arm and tugged you back, forcing you to face Thorin and his intense gaze. "There is something wrong with you, everybody knows. Do you think I am angry because you killed Azog instead I?" His voice whispered deeply, but fierce. The dwarves couldn't hear the words that he spoke, nor paid any attention to the two of you standing in the shadows. A certain hobbit did though, but you didn't notice.

You glanced away from Thorin's protruding gaze and focused your eyes on the floor, turning your cheek at him. What were you going to say? That you were a goddamn coward? That you had been so afraid to lose Thorin's life and your own that you almost petrified? You wanted to be strong in his eyes and this wasn't helping. His breathing started to grace your cheeks.

"Look at me." Thorin's voice was soft and gentle, but held a tone of command nonetheless. It made you obey his words and glance up at those stormy eyes of his. The light of the fireplace behind him made his black manes light up like a halo around him. The cut along his nose was like a dark vein tearing his face in brutally in half, but it was healing slowly but steadily.

"I am not angry on you for slaying Azog, instead of me. I was for a moment, when I heard it from the rest, but then I felt proud that you had the strength to do it. That you did not back away from him and managed to cut him down and with that end his nightmarish reign." Thorin whispered, leaning in a bit as he grasped your shoulders tightly –but not painful- when he stared deeply into your eyes.

"But I.. I wanted to. I wanted to back out," your voice cracked. Your bottom lip trembled slightly when you desperately looked away from those intense eyes of the prince that held now a questioning gaze. You could feel some hot burn behind your eyes, but you weren't ready to let the tears go just yet as shame overwhelmed you.

"I was afraid, Thorin. I was so scared that you had died and that I was going to die along with everyone else like in my dream. I was petrified that I was forever going to be the traitor in your eyes; Ayne the Betrayer. I didn't want to tell everyone with how I felt at that time, because I was ashamed to feel fear when everyone expects me no to and you had just risen from the dead as it were. It would become a burden." Warm tears were slowly sliding down your cheeks, leaving a wet mark in their wake as you told him what you felt with pauses and sobs.

Thorin looked at you silently as you sobbed and desperately tried to wipe the tears away that had wanted to spill the moment you had seen Azog's head drop to the ground. A large and warm hand was placed on top of your head and you could see the faint traces of a small smile grazing Thorin's strong features.

"Every warrior becomes scared now and then, even Dwalin, Gloin or I. It is nothing to be ashamed off. Don't fumble over the fear, horror and pain that Azog had given you; think about how you prevailed and showed that you were stronger than him. That, when you ended his life, something bad was driven out of this world." His voice was strangely soothing and tender as he spoke to you. The thumb on his hand that was on your head, gently grazed the skin of your forehead; wiping your bangs out of the way.

The tears finally stopped and you nodded, taking a deep breath and your usual smile grazing your features that set your eyes alight once more. Intriguing the prince before you. "Thank you, Thorin. For those kind words. Does that mean I can bother you in the future when I'm having an emotional breakdown as a result of my feminine hormones?"

Thorin's eyes instantly grew dark and he pulled away from you, causing you to chuckle slightly at his reaction. "No. Bother Bilbo or someone else with that." Though it did sound a bit harsh over, you could see that the corner of his thin lips was tucked slightly upwards in a faint smile; meaning that he was just jesting you a bit. It seems that he had finally found a way to accept you into their midst.


	15. Chapter 15: Thoughts

**Author's notes:** I just _love_ this chapter. It contains so much goodies and sweetness and.. and.. We are really getting somewhere! :spazzattack:

[1] I used the song _Flogging Molly - Salty Dogs_. I suggest you listen to it! I first wanted to use a song from the Dropkick Murphy's, but that didn't quite match Middle-Earth -not that Flogging Molly is a way better choice, but it works.

[2] I once tried playing the flute when I was a kid. It was awfully out of tune and when my mother was playing it sounded beautiful. So I figure that it is harder than one can imagine!

* * *

Chapter 15: Thoughts

A warm and satisfying feeling washed over you as you slowly awakened from your slumber of sleep, albeit a bit unwilling. A sigh left your lips as you snuggled closer into the warm blankets that Beorn had provided everyone, not wanting the deliciously dark peacefulness to end. Unfortunately it still did, and not the gentle manner you had hoped to.

Someone shrugged you heavily, jarring you right awake and causing you almost knocking heads as you flung up; gasping and wide-eyed. "What! What's wrong?! Is something wrong?!" you cried out, hastily searching for your blade in a reflex. Laughter made you stop and blink. Bofur was crouched next to you with the biggest grin you had ever seen on his face as his chocolate eyes twinkled at you with amusement.

"Good morning sleeping beauty! Nothing's wrong, not really. Just figured to wake 'ya up since almost all of the food is in our bellies! Hurry up lass or else only scraps are left!" He patted you on the shoulder and stood up, his the flaps of his hat dancing in the movement. A brief glance at the dining table –that was filled to the brim with food- made you jump upon your foot and hurry towards it –after you had thrown on your boots in lightning speed- and squeezed yourself between Fili and Kili, snatching away some food from under their noses.

"Eating all the food! You abominations!" you snarled with a jesting tone in your voice.

Bilbo pulled up his nose as he watched you eat like some feral animal –like the other dwarves- and stuffed yourself to the brim in a blink of an eye. The dwarves roared with laughter at the sight of you; wide eyes still puffed from sleep, hair that had striking similarities to a bird's nest and your cheeks stuffed like a hamster. You thickly swallowed down the food and let out a burp of fulfilment after you had generously drank some of the delicious honey-mead wine.

"Wide awake I see," a familiar baritone voice spoke. Your head snapped around, your neck cracking by the sudden movement and causing Fili to look a bit horrified at you. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and nodded at Thorin who sat down in front of you with a smoking pipe in his hand.

"Yeah, if it wasn't for Bofur I would have missed breakfast!" Your eyes focused on the said-dwarf and winked at him. Bofur stood up from his seat and bowed exaggerated at you.

"My pleasure, but I have never told you this was breakfast, Ayne. You are already eating lunch!" The merry dwarf stated, causing the rest to snicker a bit. Fili and Kili joined in; Kili placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it softly when he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

"You were snoring so loud that uncle decided to let you sleep-" he began.

"I don't snore!" you gasped offended, smacking the younger dwarf on the hand.

"I have heard otherwise," Fili chuckled with mirth glowing in his honey-coloured eyes. You stuck out your bottom lip, pouting, and crossed your arms over your chest. There was an evil gleam in your eyes as you glared at Bilbo, Bofur and Thorin who sat in front of you. The rest of the dwarves surrounding the table were snickering in delight when you raised a single and dangerous eyebrow.

Bilbo started to feel uneasy under your gaze and let out some kind of a whimpering sound that very much sounded like a mouse. The hobbit swallowed as he glanced to the gentlemen beside him, whom were staring back at you, unmoving and unnerving. Bofur was the second one to crack and his smiling lips broke out in an all-out cheeky grin. The dwarf shivered and laughed.

"Is it me or did the temperature just dropped?" He jokingly inquired, acting like he was terribly cold. Bilbo could see faint traces of a smile on your thin lips as you now focused your glare Thorin. Who just stared back at you with quite a relaxed face, but his intense grey eyes betrayed that his mind wasn't calm at all. Slowly they darkened.

A heavy silence loomed over the two of you as you glared into the prince's orbs. You felt your chest muscles constrict a bit and you snorted, your mouth pulling here and there as you tried to hold back your laughter. Slowly you began to chuckle and your face relaxed, instantly relaxing Bilbo.

"Kili, knock it off!" You yelped and knocked the dark haired dwarf on the shoulder with your fist. A hand emerged from your back and he held up his hands in defence. But he received another, good aimed punch on his chest, making him yelp in pain.

"I did nothing! I swear! Ouch!"

"_Fili_?"

"I didn't try to tickle you! It was Kili!"

"I was not!"

"Yes, you were!"

The brothers began to argue who was the culprit that had managed to make your sides a little ticklish. You groaned a bit dramatically as you stood up and strolled to your make-shift bed of straw and blankets. You fell back down on it; face first and humming contently in the blankets as your stomach was fulfilled and a warm feeling rising up from your gut. Someone scraped his throat behind you and you flopped over on your back, pulling down your red tunic that had ridden up your stomach a bit.

"Bilbo! Speak your mind," you invitingly patted on the bedroll beside you and propped yourself up on your elbows. You leaned to one side and one elbow as Bilbo took the bedroll beside you, his hairy feet stretched out in front of him. The little hobbit looked worried.

"Gandalf has left. We haven't seen him all day," he muttered and looked at Fili and Kili who were brawling and wrestling with each other under loud cheering noises from Òin, Gloin, Dori and Nori. Ori was gone –probably outside in the sun, reading- Bifur and Bombur were eating the scarps from the table and Dwalin and Balin were sitting by the fire, discussing things. Bofur was playing a happy tune on his flute and Thorin just stared ahead of himself, his eyes clouded.

"Gandalf is a wizard Bilbo; they appear and disappear as they like!" You muttered softly, running your free hand through your short locks, taming your hair a bit. The hobbit didn't look comforted by your words and his hands were fidgeting with the fabric of the white blouse he wore underneath his dark green waistcoat. His wine-red jacket was hanging forgotten over a dining chair.

"What if he doesn't return? He did say something about that he had to leave-" the hobbit began, but was cut short by your sharp tongue.

"Bilbo, he will come back. Perhaps sooner than you think. If Gandalf truly leaves us, I think he is the one that warns us about it first. Don't you think?" you placed a hand on his fidgeting ones, capturing his attention effectively. Bilbo's eyes slowly lit up and he nodded, a smile tucking at his lips. He stopped the fidgeting and stood up, pulling you up with him.

"You are right. Thank you, Ayne," he muttered, pushing his hands in his pockets. "I think I will enjoy a good smoke now, after I have trained with Balin and Dwalin of course." The hobbit hastily said. It seemed that he had not forgotten your harsh words from earlier. So you placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed it.

"I am sorry for my outbreak earlier. I didn't mean it to be it so harsh. Forgive me, dear Mr. Baggins?" You whispered, seeing the hobbit swallow uneasy for a moment but then the uneasiness disappeared; making way for a merrier mood.

"Apology accepted, Ayne. And I must say that you look radiant today."

"Don't try out my patience, master hobbit."

After you had shooed away Bilbo, you walked over to Thorin. Who was leaning against the giant doorframe, his stormy eyes focused on the sunny outside world. It was hard to imagine that everything you saw now was life-threatening at night. It almost made you a bit thrilled and curious to experience it; though it was a fools-thought. It would probably be bad for your health.

"Are we staying here for the day?" You asked, announcing your arrival to the dwarven prince as you stood next to him. Your arms were crossed over your chest, watching his brow lower with thoughts. Somehow you felt that after yesterday's talk with Thorin that the relationship between you two had changed. His body language wasn't as cold anymore –or you just didn't notice it- and he seemed much friendlier to you. But that could also be your imagination or ignorance. Sometimes he still acted like the grumpy, gloomy dwarf he was.

"Yes, we are. This is a nice opportunity to refill our stock and our bellies and could be our last chance to do that," Thorin absently muttered, his brow furrowed with concentration as he critically watched Bilbo getting lessons from Balin and Dwalin in sword-fighting. It was good the hobbit was finally making himself a bit more useful and skilled; who knew what dwelled Mirkwood forest? You hummed, slightly agreeing with him.

"Thanks for the talk last night; I guess that I really needed it. Enjoy the day, Thorin," you gently muttered. Catching his eyes briefly and smiled at him. You could see a glow in those grey depths and the prince inclined his head towards you after he spoke with his baritone voice; dismissing you.

"Like-wise, Ayne."

-

The prince watched Ayne walk away and into the sun. His eyes were focused upon her as he watched her converse with the rest of the dwarves and went to the animals for a short moment, to pet them. Her face was relaxed and she had once again that good energy around her that seemed to lift up the company's spirits when they were in dark times. Sure, everyone wondered about Beorn and where Gandalf had gone off too, but their worries were soon forgotten when Ayne came to converse or practice with them. She had become something soothing, after Rivendell, that Thorin hadn't seen in years. Something that reminded him not of war, but of home. Not of the home that was taken from him; but a homey home with kids, food on the table and fresh smell of flowers inside a living room that bathed in the sun; _that_ kind of home. He would never admit it, though.

-

You couldn't help but to start singing when Bofur's tune was drifting through the warm, blue-skied air; adding up to your lifting spirits. Even though you were very bad at it, you didn't care because the rest of the dwarves quickly picked up your tune. It was a crude drinking song that you remembered from way merrier times way, way back. It was something nostalgic and you couldn't help but to bring it up. Before you knew it Fili, Kili and several others were singing –more like yelling- with you.

_I'll wait for you till I turn blue, _  
_There's nothing more that a man can do, _  
_Don't get your bollocks in a twist, _  
_Settle down and take a fit, _  
_You drank with demons straight from hell, _  
_They almost nearly won as well, _  
_You wipe the floor with victory, _  
_Then puked until you fell asleep! [1]_

After you had sang a few paragraphs, Bofur was out of breath, the dwarves were dancing and Bilbo was standing with a bit defeated look on his face as he was abandoned by Balin and Dwalin all of a sudden. You plumped down into the grass next to Bofur, wiping some sweat drops from your forehead with the back of your sleeve and grinning from ear to ear.

"God, that was delicious! Good job, Bofur!" You laughed, your voice slightly hoarse of the singing and a bit pitched. You patted the dwarf on the shoulder and laid flat down on your back, still catching your breath as the rest of the dwarves were laughing and once again started to go about their business. Gloin and Oin had taken up the task to casually clean and sharpen the weapons, a thing that they fancied and relaxed them –aside from singing and drinking.

"You were quite good yourself! Getting everyone to participate like that must be a master's touch," Bofur complimented, giving you a thick fat wink as he leaned against the tree he had been sitting on. You huffed, propping yourself on your shoulders in the lush grass and smoothing down your wrinkled red linen shirt a bit.

"Must be something in the water," you mused softly and then chuckled when Fili and Kili were busy again. Fili giving his younger brother a good elbow in the ribs that looked quite painful, but didn't seem to harm Kili as he tackled the culprit with renewed strength. As time progressed things started to calm down. Thorin was practicing his sword-wielding with his good friend Dwalin and you sat up a bit; intrigued by the display of strength when the two circled each other. Bilbo had sheathed his own 'letter opener' and was sitting down, conversing with Ori and Nori with a pipe in his hand.

Dwalin was much taller than Thorin –certainly almost a head - but also a lot bigger. That made the dwarf a lot slower than Thorin, who wielded a sword and shield whilst Dwalin wielded two axes. A seemingly faster choice of weapons, but it depended one that who wielded it. Odd, because you thought Dwalin more of war hammer user, than to double wield. The two didn't wear any armour, apparently trusting heavily on each other's skills and aim.

Thorin was the first to advance, thrusting forward his sword that Dwalin blocked easily with his left axe as the right collided with Thorin's shield. The two pushed each other off, a sadistic grin appearing on Dwalin's face when they once again circled each other. Now Dwalin was the one who advanced and slashing at Thorin multiple times with his axes; recovering quickly every time the prince blocked and surprising you how fast the tattooed dwarf was, despite his size.  
Then you felt something change in the air.

Thorin had backed off for a moment to recover from the blows of Dwalin but there was a look about him that predicted the outcome quite clear. Thorin's back had straightened and a there was a look of sheer determination and strength in his eyes as he launched at Dwalin with a roar, taking the dwarf by surprise of the strength Thorin seemingly possessed. You found yourself being hypnotized of how the prince deftly moved around the bigger dwarf, slashing with his sword, pushing and blocking with his shield. The muscles of his bare arms bulging with the movement and his strong legs providing him momentum. He was literally everywhere.

Then the fight ended when Thorin managed to tackle Dwalin, using his size against him; the tip of his blade grazing the dwarf's neck. For a moment there was silence, the two were breathing heavy and the black manes of Thorin were moving with it rhythmically. You could almost see the thin sheen of sweat on the prince's forehead as his strong chest moved up and down with each intake of oxygen. Then laughter erupted when Thorin unsheathed is sword and pulled up his good friend; who didn't seem to mind at all that he was bested by the other. Dwalin slammed Thorin on the back and head butted him. The camaraderie between the two was for everyone evidently to see and somehow a faint smile managed to crawl its way across your lips.

"Fascinating isn't it?"

You were pulled rudely from your hypnotized state and noticed that you were sitting upright, your bottom lip raw from chewing and your fingers fidgeting with your linen shirt. Blinking a few times, you noticed that you were looking at Bofur –right, you were sitting next to him- and the dwarf noticed a faint pink flush appearing on your face. A teasing grin appeared on the dwarf's face.

"Yeah, it is. I love to see people fight each other- For practice, I mean," you muttered and folded your legs beneath you as you started to pluck out the grass to focus on something else than the fact of being caught day dreaming and being hypnotized.

"Nothing to be ashamed lass; you weren't the only one," Bofur mused softly and nudged you with his elbow before he pointed at Gloin, Nori and Dori; who had jumped up and clapped at the excellent display of strength and skill.

The darkness of the night came even quicker than you had imagined and before you knew it, it was time for supper. A time that Gandalf finally had decided to come back and sit down beside the dwarves; forced to tell where their host was and explain why he himself had left in the first place! You could imagine that some of the dwarves –and Bilbo- weren't happy with that fact!

After enjoying dinner, honey-mead wine and an oddly colourful smoke, the wizard told the dwarves that he had actually been following bear tracks. He had followed them to some open space, where he also sighted dozens of others bears tracks as if they had been in some kind of meeting. Then instead of returning; the tracks Gandalf had been following led all the way in the direction of where they had fought the Wargs and Orcs. The wizard sat back, a napkin dapping his lips and beard. "I guess there is the answer on both of your questions," he muttered as vague as ever.

Bilbo thought that he knew what the wizard meant and startled to rant. "What shall we die," he cried out, "if he leads all the Wargs and Orcs here! We would all be captured and killed! I though you said he wasn't a friend of them!"

The wizard rolled with his kind grey eyes and patted the little hobbit on his back in a reassuring matter. "I did say that and don't be such a fool. Go to bed, your mind is sleepy." The words of Gandalf were kind, but also slightly commanding as you watched Bilbo stick up his hand to everyone in a sign of good night and walk away to the beds. He did walk with slumped shoulders, you noticed.

The dwarves started to sing once again, but you had no desire to join despite the generous invitations like "Come on! You are so bad at singing that it is almost good!" and "Let down your hair for a second!" Each of the dwarves who said that were punished properly, that I can promise you. Despite you didn't join the singing or music that the dwarves made, you quite enjoyed listening to it and let your mind wander away as you had taken a tankard filled with honey-mead wine and sat down on a pillar. The faint light of the fire conjuring dark shadows on your face, but also a kind twinkling in your eyes.

Bofur sat down beside you, Bifur taking up his role with his own flute and crossed his legs beneath him as he also leaned against the pillar, your knees knocking together. For a moment he was silent, but then he softly spoke –his voice still holding something merry-; as if he didn't want to disturb the hobbit nor the rest of the dwarves.

"You know, I can't help but wonder what you are thinking at times like this," Bofur muttered as he followed your gaze to the merry and dancing dwarves. Thorin was the only one who didn't participate, beside you and Bofur, and was talking with Gandalf in the shadows about their plan of action. You softly mused, pursing your lips and twirling the tankard with the golden liquid in your hands after taking a sip.

"Well mister Bofur, I am thinking why everyone can play an instrument and I can't." The words that rolled over your lips were coated with a slight hinting manner as you turned your head towards him and quirked up an amused eyebrow. Immediately the dwarf sat down in front of you and pushed his flute in your hands. A cheeky smile grazing the dwarrow's lips as those crazy braids of his moved up and down with the movement.

"You can start with the flute? The harp and violin are much harder to learn the first time; you first need a rhythmic sense," he began before he pointed out which sound the flute made if you closed a hole with your fingers and how to regulate your breathing. One would think that playing the flute was very simple and easy, yet you found yourself slightly struggling to quickly breathe in and play without being out of tune. [2]

After a while you just gave up and handed the flute back to the dear Bofur, chuckling and running a hand through your hair. "I think I am too stupid to learn it, Bofur. Sorry that your efforts are in vain," you shrugged in quite a dramatic way. The dwarf before you laughed and cocked back his head, causing his hat almost to fall off as the pleasant sound of his laughter drifted into your ears, infecting you a bit.

"Nonsense! Everyone can learn it! You just need to get the hang of it, though it was quite good for a first try," Bofur began but was silenced by a jesting smack on the shoulder.

"Don't you know that lying is a sin, mister Bofur?" You smiled and looked into those twinkling dark chocolaty eyes of his. A yawn escaped your lips, causing you to stretch and stand up, rubbing the back of your head as tears –result of the yawn- pricked in the corner of your eyes. Bofur followed your example and you shot him a kind and warm smile, one that did more to him then you imagined.

"I think I am going to retreat to my warm blankets. Good night Bofur."

-

Bofur watched Ayne shoot a warm smile at him, one that made her eyes light up like fire and stirred something inside the poor dwarf. He watched her stroke back a strand of hair behind her delicate ears before walking away to the bed rolls that were engulfed in dark shadows. He could barely make out her form as she kicked off her boots and plumped down on her bed face first. He leaned for a moment against the pillar, thinking about that weird sensation that curled in his stomach each time when she smiled at him.

Finally he decided it was probably nothing and returned to the festivities at the fireplace that Thorin also seemed to have joined. Bofur played alongside with his cousin with his flute, but in the corner of his eyes he could notice steel coloured orbs had glanced at him momentarily before they once again focused on the fire. Bofur didn't pay much attention to it when he was telling one of his scary tales –that every dwarf knew already, but it was one of his classics- and greatly animated a giant troll by making himself big and throwing the most hideous and ridiculous expression on his face that he could manage.

The dwarves were making as much fun as they could now, because everyone was sure that nothing but horror and danger awaited them the very next day when they would depart for Mirkwood forest.


	16. Chapter 16: Mirkwood

**Author's notes: **I really liked the slight angst in this chapter. The beginning was quite tough to go through, but later on I couldn't stop writing! Today a bit more one-on-one with Bilbo.

In the book Mirkwood is described as a very dark and scary place and I could picture it so _good_ in my mind that the words eventually just appeared on screen. A good song to set the mood is: _Narnian Lullaby acapella cover_ by the YouTuber _Vivialyn Joynson_. Be sure to check that out!

[1]I practice horse riding in my spare time several times a week and something even multiple times a day. If I don't ride for a week and then get back in the saddle again I have muscle cramps in my inner thighs for days! So I thought: let's be realistic and make them suffer! insertevillaughtherhere

[2] Because dwarves can live up around 250 years (if I am correct) I figured that they could also suffer from dementia and die. So yeah..

PS: I realized that Dwalin (1m50) is just 1cm taller than Thorin (1m49), not an entire head as I thought he was (according to the official dwarf scale of 0,749 and 1 being the actor's actual length). Excuse me for the mistake in the previous chapter! :D Ayne is about Kili's height (1m43), whilst Bofur measures 1m45 and Bilbo 1m27 according to the scale.

If you guys want the link with the scale and such; PM me or review so that I can send it to you.

* * *

Chapter 16: Mirkwood

"Wake up, wake up! Dawn is coming!"

A loud, rumbling voice woke up the dwarves in a rather crude fashion. Making you stir and groan, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and sat up slowly. You stared up the dark coal coloured eyes of Beorn and noticed Gandalf standing beside him, chuckling with amusement twinkling in his eyes. The dwarves groaned and moaned as they slowly began to wake up. It was no surprise that Thorin was the first to have completely awakened and on his feet. Only to walk to the dining table that was once again filled with food.

"Ah! I see that our little hobbit is getting some weight on his skinny bones!" Beorn's deep voice called, jabbing the hobbit a bit harsh in the ribs with a thick finger of his. The giant Man seemed in a much happier mood than the dwarrow had first met him. "Eat! Eat until you are stuffed!" he called when the dwarves started to attack and devour breakfast.

During that meal, Beorn confirmed Gandalf's story and told the dwarves that he had encountered some goblins that were out for revenge of the death of their King. Thorin swallowed down some food, his dark brow slightly lowered as he glanced up to the Man. "And what have you done with the goblins?"

The giant shrugged his massive shoulders and took a large gulp of his honey-mead wine, some drops spilling in his ink black beard. "New decorations," he merely said and nodded to the open window in a suggestive matter. Bilbo had no trouble to imagine that a beheaded goblin and a pelt of a Warg or two were nailed on the fences and trees boarding Beorn's home. The hobbit was then very grateful that they had allied the Man.

When breakfast was being digested into their stomach Beorn gave each and every one provisions –containing honey, sour cream, nuts and some other nutritious things- that could last for at least a week or two if they rationed it. Then his brows suddenly furrowed and he lifted up a long finger when he talked, his voice low and heeding and you swallowed thickly.

"Remember; water is hard to find in Mirkwood, but food even more. There dark and wild things living in the forest. I will provide you with hides filled with water, bows and some arrows. Though I advise you not to eat anything but nuts –even though the nut season hasn't begun yet and stray of the road. There is also a stream running through Mirkwood, it is dark and strong that crosses your path. Do not drink or bathe in it; because it is enchanted and will cause a deep sleep and memory loss to occur. Again **do not **stray from path."

The dark words of Beorn made Ori and some of the other dwarves a little twitchy. Who knew that there was still so much danger between them and Erebor, where Smaug the Terrible was waiting for them? As a final sign of kindness, the Man also provided the dwarves with ponies –and a horse for Gandalf- that they had to send back the moment they arrived at Mirkwood.

"I wish you all the best and may you ever return; my door is always open."

Bilbo couldn't help but to shiver at the unintentionally menacing words of Beorn when the dwarves said their good bye and rode off; their bellies and pack filled, but with heavy hearts beating within their chests. They rode ponies in a relaxed canter when the ground became more even and steadier for their feet as you decided to canter next to Bilbo with one hand on the reins and the other hanging beside you quite relaxed.

"You are worried, Bilbo," you softly muttered when you had finally met up with him. Your hair was flowing in the cool breezing wind that gently grazed your cheeks and slightly watered your eyes.

The little hobbit had become quite good in riding horses; he seemed more relaxed and his posture was getting better and the better the more hours he rode on his steed. Despite that you could see him shift in his saddle once in a while – everyone was, except Gandalf- indicating that he was having muscle cramps for the lack of riding the past few months. It started to affect you too and somewhere you were glad that you were a woman and did not have a thing hanging down there between your legs. The first moments the dwarves had climbed back in the saddle must have been very uncomfortable. [1]

He looked at you to the side, his mouth was pulled into a grim line and then he nodded slowly. "I think we all are, lady Ayne." The hobbit said, his voice serious and his forehead wrinkled slightly. The scenery around them was beautiful as the wilderness was almost literally lying at their feet. But Bilbo couldn't relax and enjoy it.

-

"I have a bad feeling about Mirkwood," he finally said after a silence and glanced at the woman beside him. Her golden hair was flowing in the wind, but her eyes confirmed his feelings; this was serious. She seemed relaxed on the steed below her and praised it with just a whisper of her voice. Then she looked straight ahead to the dwarves in front of her and the distinctive pointy hat of Gandalf.

"We all do Bilbo," her ominous words were.

The day had passed quicker than they had expected. This time Nori and Dori were asked to look after the ponies and horse. We all know what happened the last time Fili and Kili watched them, right? Anyways, Bilbo was having a good stew that lifted his mood just a bit but not quite. He watched Ayne go round and give some salves for the sore muscles here and there then finally sit down next to Balin and have a bite of her stew.

The night had slipped by quite uneventful, though the company was plagued by nightmares filled with the howls of Wargs and screeches of Orcs and goblins. When it was afternoon they finally had arrived at the dark woods of Mirkwood and there they jumped off their ponies and all said farewell albeit half-heartedly, except Gandalf.

"Now then, this is Mirkwood," the wizard hummed. His eyes taking in the dark and threatening forest before the company and his beard wiggled. "Say goodbye to the ponies, for Beorn is perhaps our friend but also a ruthless enemy if made such. His love for animals is great and you don't realize half the kindness he has given to let us ride them so long and so fast."

"What about the horse?" Thorin asked, his tone slightly suspicious. "You haven't said anything about him."

"Indeed, because I won't send him back."

"What about your promise?"

"That is my own business. I won't send the horse back because I will be riding him!" Then the dwarrow knew that Gandalf would leave them there at the edge of Mirkwood. But nothing the dwarves offered or said couldn't sway the wizard as he shook his head, almost shaking off his large pointed hat.

"We have already talked about this and there is no other way. I have business to attend to in the south and already run late. So this is my good bye and I hope that I will meet you again after your journey has ended. Have courage, Bilbo Baggings and don't look so depressed! Be a little happier!" With those words the wizard turned around and galloped away to the south, eventually disappearing over a hill and out of sight after yelling once more that the dwarves should not stray of the path.

For a moment there was silence.

-

"Come on, there is no point into dwelling about it. We all knew that he was going to leave us eventually and now is the time. Let's divide our packs," you muttered and heaved your heavy pack over your shoulders along with your portion of the water. The weight of the pack was enormous, weighing you down effectively and slowing the company to marching pace as they turned their back to the sun basking wilderness and strode into the dark forest.

The trees were very tall, big and look almost withered -like an old man- with the odd angles their branches and trunk were shaped. Rare kinds of mosses grew on the trees, on their roots and even on the ground with big and colourful mushroom popping out here and there. Bilbo was amazed off how oddly fascinating the forest was in some kind of morbid way.

The path then emerged, narrow and winding itself around trees and their trunks. The entrance was flanked by two dead trees, hanging over it in some kind of twisted arch of how their branches were entangled around each other. Vines were curled around the roots, effectively sucking out the life out of the trees –if there was any left in it- and Bilbo couldn't help but shudder when they were passing the trees. He almost had the feeling like they were watching him.

As you ventured deeper into the forest, taking the lead alongside Thorin, and the silence seem to press down heavy on everyone. Meanwhile the colourful moss, fungus and mushroom had disappeared and your deep rooted instincts were screaming "Danger! Danger!". You wanted to turn around on your heels and walk out of the forest, but you couldn't, so you shan't, so you wouldn't. Each step a dwarf or Bilbo took was like someone was hitting pots and pans and yelled in your ears. It was so dead **silent **that you could count fifteen breaths, including your own, as the trees bent themselves around you and the company, but never moving and forever silenced. There wasn't even a gush of wind that rustled the leaves and you didn't like it one bit.

You swallowed, noticing that your mouth had gone dry and your lips were cracking from breathing with an open mouth. On the occasion a weak beam of sunlight managed to break through the thick canopy high above you and land on the forest floor before your feet –if it wasn't caught by a twisting branch. But that was only for a split second, before darkness engulfed the light like the sea swallowed up shore.

Slowly your ears could pick up slight noises of the distant rustling of leaves way high above your heads from the very top of the trees. Here and there Bilbo could even spot black squirrels darting of the path and hiding behind the trunks when they approached them unknowingly. You also started to notice strange noises; some type of growling, sniffing and the sound of running in the dark thicket or between the leaves that were lying endless thick on the forest floor. What caused the sounds you didn't know, but judging the tense faces everyone had and the sight of their hands on their weapons, you figured you weren't only one to hear them.

As the dwarves ventured even deeper, large cobwebs started to slowly appear on the trees. Weaving around the branches and bushes in thick strands, promising a cruel death to anyone who was foolish enough to be constricted in its sticky substance. Surprisingly enough, there weren't any crossing the path. Whether it was magic that kept the cobwebs at bay or something else, no one could tell.

The day passed and you were relieved to let your heavy pack drop to the ground when Thorin announced that they would camp here. Your shoulders were burning and screaming in agony when you rolled them in a futile attempt to loosen them up. Thank the Avvar that you still had some of that muscle balm that you used earlier for the serious muscle aches in your thighs.

The salve passed each dwarf and Bilbo, but it wasn't used generously like it should, thus taking a small amount of the burning sensation away. At least it was something. Who knew what awaited them beyond or even deeper into this wretched forest. When Gloin managed to get a weak and small fire going, all it gave you was a sense a danger instead of safety. You glanced around your shoulders as the forest seemed to darken even more; indicating the fleeting fall of the sun in the sky and that darkness was now truly upon the company.

"I don't like this," you whispered softly when everyone had settled and were fed. The dwarves were huddled close together, shoulder against shoulder and shooting a suspicious glance over their shoulders into the thick darkness behind the trees.

"Agreed, it's too dark. Even for my tastes," Bofur muttered. He would know, because he hadn't always been toy maker; he and several others of the dwarves also had experience with deep underground mines. You shivered and pulled your blanket –which you had wrapped around yourself- closer, snuggling in it. Thorin finally announced that everyone should try and get some rest. You and Bilbo held the first watch, thus you settled tightly against the hobbit with your backs against a tree when you watched the company lie down close to each other in an attempt to sleep.

Not a soul snored the first hour. Betraying that there were more souls awake and they were likely to admit. Aside from the soft crackling of the fire, the world was once again devoid from any sound. You took a deep breath, noticing that your mood had been weighing down on you considerably and was glad the hobbit had decided to make some small talk with you in order to focus the attention on to something else than the impenetrable darkness beyond the light of your fire.

"I have heard that Fili, Kili, Ori, Nori and Dori, are all descendants of Durin's folk and thus relatives of Thorin. Do you have any idea where you originated from?" Bilbo's voice softly whispered, although that also sounded like he was yelling in your ear or something. You shrugged a bit in almost not caring matter and looked at the dancing flames and the rising chests of the sleeping dwarves at your feet. Finally soft snoring and the rhythmic deep breathing of someone sleeping slowly filled the air, making the heaviness in the air almost lighter in an instant.

"No idea. I do know that my father's grandfather came from the Blue Mountains. My mother had been living in Erebor all her live and served the crown as a maid. They met when he had saved her from falling into the river nearby the city of Dale. He was a warrior of great class and skills, a hunter in his spare times," you whispered back. Bilbo saw your grey-blue eyes slowly grow a bit distant as your mind thought back of happier times.

"My mother was a gorgeous woman, around 50 when she had met my father and had just become of age to marry. It was love on first sight. I gained interest in fighting through my father, who trained me to defend myself if necessary but also pressed me on finding a suitable occupation for a woman. I tried different things like a cook, maid, waitress or shopkeeper, but found a passion in being a healer; the kind that was in the midst of battle," you sighed and prodded the fire to keep it burning properly and stared up to the dark canopy above them. You swore that you could see faint lights of stars here and there.

Bilbo was silent as you told him how you had an advantage of being a woman; slimmer and agiler than most of the men, but also mentally quite capable of handling the stress and pressure in battle. Your mother disapproved of the danger your profession held, but you always reassured her that it was fine.

"When I was about 63 years old, my mother became ill. Not physically, but mentally. Her memory faltered and the distance between me, dad and her grew like a sick infection but spread out over several months instead of days. Dad couldn't deal with the fact that she didn't remember him in the end and left to the barracks; dedicating his life there and leaving me with mom until she died, completely alienated from herself." [2]

Bilbo noticed your voice became a bit quieter and a bit small. He glanced side ways to see a sorrow reflect in your eyes, but also some kind of mixture of guilt and relief. "You were relieved that she had died, weren't you?" The hobbit slowly muttered, almost ashamed that he broke your train of thoughts because you looked up almost a bit bewildered.

"Yes, because she was finally free from herself, but I also felt guilty because I felt relieved. My dad didn't cope with it very well. He too grew more distant, even from his comrades. Then the battle of Azanulbizar happened and.. Well, you know the rest." You had shrugged your shoulders and there was a faint tuck on the corner of your lips as you stared at the band of dwarves, your eyes focussing on the back of a certain dwarf named Thorin.

"Thank you.. for sharing," Bilbo began, his hands fidgeting with the rims of his wine-red jacket. The dwarves were still softly snoring and he felt fatigue overwhelm him suddenly; causing him to yawn and stretch.

"It is of no trouble. I am not ashamed of my past, since it was a happy one for when I was younger," you noticed tiredness bloom into the eyes of the hobbit and patted him on the shoulder. A kind, but small, smile lighting up your eyes again; making the atmosphere bit lighter than before. "You should go to sleep; I will keep watch for the night."

Bilbo quirked an eyebrow at your inquiry and opened his mouth to say something. You silenced him by placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it softly and well-meant. "Do it. I won't be able to sleep anyway tonight. This forest is too haunting for my tastes to relax and succumb to the slumbers of sleep."

The hobbit lips tucked upward in a returning smile as he mouthed a wordless thank you, before he lied down and snuggled into his blankets. He was too on edge though to completely relax and take some shut-eye. You knew that he and several others had never closed an eye that night because a sense of danger had settled in their hearts, keeping them aware and awake with a hand on their weapons. Your eyes pinpointed on a particular deep patch of darkness right ahead of you and slowly they narrowed in a threatening glare.

You were not alone


	17. Chapter 17: Lost

**Author's note: **Pfiew! Done! This was a tough one because of the amount days the dwarves actually spent in the forest. Finally I have found a decent place to stop writing and call it a chapter!

Oh, and forgive Ayne's grumpyness. She hates being hungry. And forgive me about the boat scene.. I can't write that kind of scenes :depressed:

Question: What role do Tauriel and Legolas (aside from being Tamriel's son) have here? Since neither of them appear in the book and I would like them to insert into the FanFiction (because they appear in the film) but I don't want to mess it up either since I don't know what they are on about! Descisions, decisions. (Review or PM if you have an idea or some kind of advice!)

_(Excuse me if you spot any grammar mistakes. I haven't really paid attention this time.)_

* * *

Chapter 17: Lost

Days went by and the scenery of pitch blackness never changed. A fear started to grew in Thorin's heart, that wasn't quite a fear actually; more of a worry. What if they roamed these woods for weeks? The prince had already noticed that his weight of his pack had already lessened quite a bit since the moment they had stepped into this haunted place.

The dwarves had also noticed that they were far from alone in this silent darkness. Sometimes they could see yellow, red or green pair of eyes watching from afar, only to slowly disappear and light up somewhere else. At times they shone down upon them in the branches above their heads, but that wasn't the scariest pair of eyes; no.

The most haunting eyes –in yours and Bilbo's shared opinion- were bigger than any mammal could possess and held a pale dull shimmer in them. Since the night where you and Bilbo had been chatting in the presence of a fire, the flames seemed to attract hundreds of unwanted eyes around them, but never showing their true identity. Because it was so fearful each time (and because of giants moths a big as your hand and the bats fluttering around the company) the dwarves finally gave up making a fire –luckily it wasn't that cold- but that didn't bring you more sleep.

Food was getting less and less with each passing day and their water supply was also running low. Kili once managed to shot a squirrel –after wasting a lot of arrows-, but it tasted awful so they didn't shoot any squirrels again. In the state hungry and being incredibly thirsty, the dwarves encountered something that crossed their path and the faint sound of flowing water echoed in their ears.

"Is that the water Beorn had been talking about?" Ori whispered as they approached it.

The water was dark and deep, rushing powerful within its banks that were quite narrow of where it crossed their path. The substance looked eerily black, but that's everything looked in this impenetrable darkness.

"It's good that Beorn warned us. I can already see us drinking from this cursed water and filling out flagons with it," Balin muttered, furrowing his white brows as he tried to see the bottom of the fast moving stream, with no avail.

"Now we only need to figure how to cross it," Thorin muttered briskly; apparently not pleased by this fact. "It seems that there was once a wooden bridge here, judging by these foundations." The prince kicked a wooden pole that was just a remnant of the structure. It had probably rotten away a long time ago.

Then, all eyes shot to Bilbo as the hobbit moved to the edge of the river bank and kneeled down; his eyes squinted. You could see some kind of relief on his face, but then a flash of worry and disappointment. "There is a boat on the other side! Why can't it be at ours?" The hobbit groaned and ran a hand through his curls. Thorin stood beside him, looking where the hobbit was staring at but could see nothing.

"How far?" The prince asked, because now it was proven that Bilbo had the sharpest eyes of them all. The hobbit straightened his back and glanced side-ways at the dwarf whilst gesturing ahead of him.

"Not that far; forty feet if I exaggerate."

"Forty feet is it? Closer than I would have guessed. Forty or one mile, give or take," Nori shrugged as he only faintly spotted the outlines of.. something. He couldn't even identify it as a boat! You also squinted your eyes but see nothing but darkness, like Thorin and some others. Damn, you were getting old!

"Well, we can't jump over it or swim through it. Thus, we have arrived to the golden question; can someone throw a rope?" You invitingly spread your arms and looked around the company, noticing that some glanced at you like you were mad or something. Did that come with old age too? Or were you just being the creative one?

"What use is a rope? The boat must be tied to the shore and even it wasn't, I doubt that we could reach it any way," Gloin growled and crossed his arms over his chest in a grumpy matter. You couldn't help but to slightly glare at the dwarf, because in your opinion it was quite a good plan!

"I don't think it's tied up," Bilbo then slowly muttered as he stared into the darkness. "However I can't be sure with so little light. It seems to me that it was just pulled on the banks of where the path, leading from the water, is at its lowest."

"Dori is one of the strongest, but Fili is the youngest and has superior eyesight," Thorin muttered and gestured for the blond haired cousin of his. "Come, Fili and see if you can also spot the boat that Mr. Baggings here is talking about." Thorin trusted Bilbo, but in truth the hobbit wasn't quite good at tossing robes and they needed someone handy in doing that, but with also a good aim and good eyes.

Thus, Fili also squinted his eyes and muttered that he could see its outlines and something in a shape of a boat. Meanwhile, Bofur had crafted one of the iron hooks –that they used to hoist their packs onto their backs and attach it to their belts- to their longest robe and pressed it into the younger dwarf. Fili tested out the weight, let it gain momentum and then tossed it into the darkness. A loud splash was the result.

"Not far enough," said Bilbo, who was still staring into the distance. "A few more feet and it would have landed on the boat. Try again." Fili cocked and eyebrow as if he wasn't quite sure about this. Kili clasped his brother on his shoulders and squeezed them softly.

"I don't think the enchantment is _that_strong if you only touch a few inches of wet rope, brother. Try again, you can do it!" You were grateful that Kili was there to encourage his brother, whom was withdrawing the rope –albeit a bit hesitating. You stepped out of the way when Fili started to swing the hook once and more threw it away, this time with more power. This time there was no splash.

Bilbo's eyes lit up slightly in relief and then you knew that it was alright. "You have hit the boat, now pull gently until the hook manages to embed itself." Fili did as the hobbit asked and the rope tightened. The dwarf pulled harder; but alas with no result.

You heard a small rustling behind you when Gloin, Oin and Kili started to help the dwarf. You turned and narrowed your grey-blue depths, since there was nothing there to greet you. The uneasy feeling of being watched crept in your heart, making you shuffle a little closer to the group with your hand on the hilt of your sword. A yelp escaped your throat when Gloin, Oin, Fili and Kili suddenly fell back flat on their backs, groaning and moaning. The rope soared in the sky, only to be caught by a sharp attentive Bilbo.

A small black boat them appeared in the midst of darkness and rushed towards them in quite an amazing speed before it hit the shore and almost managed to be carried down-stream if it wasn't for Balin grabbing the edges just in time. He and Dwalin pulled the boat on the path and the older dwarf scratched his hairy chin.

"It seems that the boat was tied to something," he muttered when his eyes spotted a rope that was tied to the bow on other side of the small boat and now dangled in the air, the tip barely grazing the black water. It was merely a portion of a complete rope and the end looked like it was torn from its counterpart. "That was a damn good pull, boys. Thank Durin that our rope was the strongest."

"So, who is going first?" Bilbo muttered when the boat seemed steady enough to climb in.

"I will," Thorin said, already walking to the boat and gesturing you to follow. "You, Ayne and Fili will be coming with me. More won't fit in the small boat. After us Balin, Kili, Oin and Gloin; then Dori, Nori, Ori and Bofur; then Bifur, Dwalin and Bombur as the last ones."

"I am always last one," Bombur muttered with an irritated and grumpy voice. "Today it's someone else's turn!"

"Then you shouldn't be so fat, but because you are you have to be with the last and lightest load. Don't start grumbling now, or something worse is going to happen to you dear brother." Bofur warned with a wiggling finger sticking in the air and in front of his brother's face.

It seemed that in the boat there weren't any belts. But the amazing Fili had a solution of course; he took another rope with a hook at the end of it and threw it. The rope didn't come down and with a slight pull they figured that it had been caught in the branches of the trees above them. "Alright, get in," Fili announced after he was sure that the rope was secure.

Thorin was the first to step in to the wobbly, small boat that you didn't like one bit. You helped Bilbo hop in and the moment you also wanted to step into the boat suddenly seemed to shift. It caught you off guard and your foot, making you tumble into the wooden structure of transportation with a loud "Oomph!". Bofur couldn't contain his laughter, neither could Kili, Fili and some others because of the ridiculous way you had fallen into the boat.

Something warm, firm and vertical had caught your fall, but it didn't fall down with you and more or less served as a strong foundation. It rose and went down in slow rhythmic movement, that you could only describe as _pleasant_, and smelled like a mixture of sweat, steel and oak, but it didn't stink. Your hands were leaning on hard wood of the boat on either side whilst your cheeks were pressed flat again an oddly familiar fur-lined coat-.. **Shit**!

You jarred upright, almost falling out of the boat if it wasn't for Thorin's lightning reflexes that caught your collar and pulled you down to sit on your bum in front of him. The prince's steel eyes were scolding at you intensely as you could hear a "Foolish woman," rolling over his lips when the iron grip on your collar slowly lessened and then finally released you when he was sure that you remained seated. Thank the Valar that it was dark, so your embarrassed fluster went unnoticed.

"Sorry," you whispered softly when the boat started to move and water curled around it; trying to get a hold of it but failing because of the rope that Fili was pulling to get them across. "And thanks."  
You saw a faint glimmer of amusement in the prince's eyes even though his lips weren't smiling, but it was enough for you. With a bump the boat hit the other end of the path.

Thorin got out first, helped Bilbo out of the boat and then held his hand out for you. You narrowed your eyes at his outstretched hands. Thorin cocked an eyebrow and there was a faint tuck on his lips as his eyes silently gestured to the hand, wanting you to take it and not make a fool of yourself once more. You rolled your eyes and placed a hand into his, grasping it firmly as he pulled you out of the boat; almost making you stumble.

You immediately let go of his hand when you had regained your footing and whisked some hair out of your face. "Thanks, again." You started to feel like some retarded kid and wasn't aware that the hobbit's sharp eyes were trained on the two of you; silently.

"I am merely saving you from your own foolishness," his mirth coated, deep voice said back as Thorin watched Fili also climbed out of the boat after securing the other rope and whistled sharp to the other side; signalling that the company could pull the boat towards them. In a small matter of time everyone was at the other side of the stream and with a deftly tuck they managed to pulled the other rope from the trees.

Dwalin had just climbed out with the rope wrapped around his shoulder and Bombur –still grunting and slightly cursing- made himself ready to follow when the worst thing happened.

The sound of running hooves echoed from the path ahead of them, making everyone alert and even pull out weapons. Suddenly, out of the darkness, a fleeing deer had burst out of the bushes; shaking his head with his mighty antlers and a roar coming from his throat. The pure white deer stormed right at the company and forced the dwarves to jump aside to avoid being trampled. You felt the wind of the huge momentum the creature had, whoosh right past your back when you jumped to the side, tripped and fell into a thorn-bush much to your dismay. The beast didn't slow down, however, and only started to gallop faster in order to jump; and it did.

You watched the deer execute a perfect jump straight across the stream, but it didn't reach the other side completely unharmed. Thorin was the only one who remained standing and was still calm. He had a bow and arrow tight in his hands, ready to shoot in case the guardian of the boat emerged from the shadows, but now shot the arrow at the jumping deer.

When the creature reached the other side, it stumbled momentarily before the shadows drowned the creature and eventually the sound of hooves died. Before the dwarves could praise Thorin's aim and quick thinking a chilling scream from Bilbo banned all thoughts from their heads.

"Bombur fell in the water! He's drowning!" Bilbo cried out.

You snatched the rope from Dwalin's hands –after jumping out of the thorn-bush with a scratch here and there- and threw it in the water where you could see a patch of ginger hair. Hands snatched the rope and sweat trickled down your brow when you and rest pulled Bombur swiftly on the banks.

The dwarf was completely soaked, but that wasn't the worst part, no. The worst part was that he was fast asleep. Bofur hovered above his brother and gave him a few sickening bitch-claps across the cheeks, the print of his palm momentarily visible before disappearing, but nothing they did would wake the fat dwarf who was smiling at the probably pleasant dreams he was having.

"Well, that sucks," Nori muttered and scratched his forehead as they watched their boat float away.

"Wait, do you hear that? Ssh!" Balin then hushed, his voice low and his finger raised in the air to catch the attention of his fellow dwarves. Everyone grew silent and sure enough; they could hear the pealing of horns and the faint sound of barking dogs coming from between the trees from far away. You had a hold on Bofur and pulled him down when Thorin mentioned everyone to lower themselves and remain quiet.

The breathing of the dwarves echoed in your ears when the sound of running hooves resonated through the air. Suddenly, out of the darkness, a flock of snow white deer jumped out of the bushes; a few doe, one deer and a few calves. In the corner of your eyes you saw Nori, Kili and Fili shoot at the flock in a wild impulse before you even had time to react or yell to stop them. They missed and the flock jumped once again in the bushes.

"What were you thinking! Shooting at them like a blind fool! Now we have no arrows left and the bows of Beorn are useless!" He raged, jumping on his feet with his steel eyes spitting fire at the foolish dwarves. He groaned and rubbed his temple in frustration.

That night there was gloomy atmosphere. The following days weren't getting any better, because the scenery never seemed to change as the path led them into darkness once more. The sad thing was, that company had no idea that the white deer and the hunt meant that they were approaching the eastern border of Mirkwood; where the trees were less dense and sunlight was able to touch the ground. So instead, they were burdened with Bombur's heavy and sleeping body –who was still smiling- that each of them carried for a certain amount of time, except Bilbo. The poor hobbit would be utterly crushed by the weight.

After a couple of more days the time came that there wasn't anything left to eat or drink. The company couldn't find anything eatable in the forest –expect moss and some herbs with colourful leaves but with a horrible odour. In about four days after they had crossed the river they came in an area of the forest that mainly consisted out of beeches. It was a welcome change since here the forest wasn't as pitch black as before and the undergrowth wasn't as thick. There also seemed to be some kind of light hanging around here, making the path and trees appear like they were in some kind of a dimly lit room. You couldn't find any source of the light however, though the trees seemed to emanate it themselves. That couldn't be true right?

Bombur was still sleeping however when you took him from Dwalin. The sheer weight of the dwarf made you grown and sweat bead down your temple as he kept snoring away. It made you grumpy and a bit snarly when someone talked to you. Sometimes Bilbo's ear could pick up distant laughter and strange noises in the distance. It wasn't unpleasant –not like goblins- and quite beautiful, but the dwarves didn't trust it either way.

As you struggled with Bombur on your back, you noticed that the path was slowly going downhill. It was almost unnoticeable, but you did with the way Bombur was leaning forward. Your breathing was heavy, your throat dry as sand and your knees started to buckle. You couldn't take it anymore. So you slid Bombur of your back and collapsed to the ground next to his nearly lifeless body.

"E-enough! I.. I need a break!" you heaved and lied down in the leaves with your chest rising up and down heavily and your cheeks red. A nauseous feeling and sick feeling started to wash over you because of your fatigue, but you managed to keep the urge to wretch down and propped yourself up on your elbows. Despite the overwhelming heat and the desperate need to suck in oxygen.

Thorin obeyed you cry and mentioned for everyone to make camp. But the dwarven prince seemed incredibly irritated, once of his hands running through his thick black manes whilst you propped yourself against a tree; declining an offer of some sweet water with the reason that you weren't so thirsty. You liar.

"Will we never get out of this cursed forest!" Thorin cried out, frustration clearly coating his voice. A brisk finger was pointed at poor Bilbo. "Climb the highest tree you can find, see if you can spot any way out of this wretched tree invested place." The poor hobbit didn't even thought of going against Thorin so he obeyed and climbed higher and higher until you couldn't see him anymore.

"Bilbo! What do you see!" Balin called, there was no answer yet.

You wiped the sweat from your brow and pulled up a nose when you noticed how you smelled. God, you could really use a bath! Everyone could, by the way. Slowly you crawled back on your wobbly feet and paled slightly at your churning and hungry stomach.

Bilbo stayed away quite some time, making you a bit anxious and causing Thorin to pace around. His brow furrowed and his gaze dark. Finally there was the sound of snapping branches and Bilbo jumped down, landing skilfully on his hairy feet, but what he had to tell didn't make the gloomy mood of the group any better.

"What do you mean, there are only trees around us? There has to be an end somewhere!" Dwalin cried out, throwing his huge tattooed hands in the air and Bifur only glared at the hobbit who's face had grown a few shades paler out of despair to tell the dwarves the bad news, but was now shrinking even more because of the barrage of yells and curses he received.

"What use is he anyway? We should never have-!"

_Smack!_

"Dwalin! Shut. Up."

"How dare-!"

_Smack!_

"I said; shut up! How dare you speak ill of Bilbo? He is the one that bloody pulls us out of trouble half the time, you ungrateful dickheads!" You yelled, glaring around the company and meeting everybody's eyes. You looked quite feral with the cuts and bruises (remember the thorn bush?), your wild eyes and your fire spitting eyes. Ori, Fili and Kili seemed pale just a bit and some dwarves scratched the back of their heads with an blush of shame crossing their cheeks.

"Shame on you! Come, Bilbo. Tell me about those butterflies you've seen," you took the hobbit by the arm and led him away from the rest. Idly chattering about things that weren't quite important at the time but certainly focused your attention elsewhere than you rumbling stomach.

That night was an odd night. The dwarves were restless and were eating the scraps of their food given by Beorn. It tasted wonderful but after you had finished, you found yourself being hungry still.  
There was one good thing though that occurred right there and then; Bombur woke up.

The dwarf shot up with a snort and looked bewildered from side to side. A disappointed expression crossed his chubby features, but there was also a sign of confusion as he scratched the back of his head. It appeared that Bombur didn't recall a thing since they had left to begin this journey. When he heard there was no food a few tears streamed down his cheeks here and there as he began to sob.

"Why did I ever wake up!" Bombur cried out, glaring up to the dark canopy of the trees as if they would talk back at him. "I just had such wonderful dreams, about banquets, food, singing, torches and more food!" Bilbo kind of felt sorry for Bombur, but not quite; since the mention of food made the little stomach of the hobbit growl even more.

"Don't describe it," Thorin uttered briskly. "If you can't talk about anything else but food, then hold your tongue. It wasn't fun to carry you whilst we were rationing for weeks." The prince seethed. You gave him a quirked eyebrow and Thorin glanced away. You knew he was incredibly hungry too, they all were.

There wasn't any chance of getting any sleep that night so the company stood up, fastened their belts around their empty stomach and hoisted their empty packs on their backs. Hoping that they would get out of the forest before they curled up and die of hunger in this darkness; a fate that didn't sound very appealing to you. After a while Bombur just refused to take another step, much to the other's dismay.

"You are going to keep walking! We have carried you enough, now work those feet!" Dori barked at the fat dwarf, but it was of no avail because Bombur simply threw himself down on the forest floor. You glanced at Bofur and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. Your voice quivered when you spoke of withheld anger, frustration and the sense of despair that constantly weighed your down and made you feel even more miserable.

"Make Bombur come along, Bofur. We don't have the time nor the strength to constantly stop and rest. We have to get moving."

At the same time Balin, who was walking ahead, suddenly cried out. "What did my old eyes see? I thought I saw a light shining in the forest." Kili stood next to the old white haired dwarf and narrowed his hazel eyes, glaring at the vast darkness outstretched before them.

"I thought so too- there it is!" He gasped, gaining everyone's attention and sure enough; numerous of lights were dancing between the trees. You joined Thorin and narrowed your eyes at the lights, trying to see silhouettes but your eyes weren't that keen as you had hoped. The faint sound of chattering and laughter drifted in your ears like beautiful music, making you take a deep intake of breath.

"Is it a trap?"

Thorin took a deep breath and glanced at you for a moment. "One way to find out. Everybody, move!" He called and started to break out in a run. The dwarrow followed swiftly and even Bombur had jumped on his feet to follow the dwarves. He was faster than you thought because he quite matched you in speed, even though he was puffing and breathing harsh about that his dream was probably coming true!

When the company finally met the lights, you noticed that it were torches. They were carried by handsome and beautiful tall elves that were chattering to each other in a foreign language that sounded like music in your ears. You wanted to skid and stop but it was too late; the dwarves tumbled into the light of the fire and the chattering stopped.

A dead and heavy silence immediately downed on the company and the moment the dwarves started to notice it, everything when pitch black.

And you could hear or see **nothing**.


	18. Chapter 18: Prison

**Author's notes:** Finally something more creative than writing down a whole chapter that is practically the book in short (like previous chapter)! I had some awesome music from Alexandre Desplat playing through my headphones, because I really wanted to get in a sort of angsty mood so much that I nearly cried whilst writing the angsty parts!

Can you feel it bloom people? Can you feel it grow? :D

I wanted Legolas and Tauriel to be in the fanfic, so I kinda turned and twisted to make them fit. Sorry if they are OCC, but it was necessary :(

[1] Reference to Dragon Age ;)  
[2] I don't know if it's the same with other people, but when I am shivering and I _force_ myself to relax and stop shivering I am not that cold as before! That also applies to Ayne.

* * *

Chapter 18: Prison

A brutal smack on a hard surface jarred you awake and left you gasping when a faint metallic taste of blood coated your tongue. The sound of a gate being closed and ringing of chains behind you caught you ears, and footsteps walked away with a beautiful, but briskly muttering voice disappearing with it. You blinked a few times and looked around; there was more light here than in the forest.

You seemed to be in some kind of prison cell, with iron bars, stone and a weak ray of sunlight only there to greet you. A shaking breath left your cracked lips when you tried to move something, anything, only to be greeted by an intense and throbbing pain. You found out that single moment that you were stripped from your armour and weapons and was only wearing your under clothing. A disheartening feeling coursed through you gut when you heard a groan emanate from your right.

"Thorin!"

The prince groaned, looking just how you felt with cuts and bruises over every portion of skin your eyes could see; horrible and painful. You scooted to his side as fast as you could and placed a hand on the man's back, a cough reeling through his body and almost causing him to wretch. He crawled upon all fours and you felt sweat making the blue linen shirt cling to his back, his face held an eerie pale complexion.

"Easy. Try to relax your breathing, the coughing will stop. It's your empty stomach causing you to feel like this. Sshh," you hushed with a hoarse voice and you rubbing his back slowly and rhythmically, trying to make him relax. It worked, Thorin managed to stop his attempts to barf the non-existent contents of his stomach and the coughing slowly dwindled. You helped him sit properly and lean against the rock wall at one end of the prison cell and was startled by the way he looked.

The faint scar across his nose was the only permanent thing he had received whilst fighting Azog, but now he had another gash to make it complete. It was just above his right eyebrow and bleeding quite severely, leaving a huge red smear across the right side of his face as the blood drops were pulled down by gravity and eventually mingled with his black beard.

"Bloody elves," the prince cursed, his tongue briefly grazing his own chapped lips in an attempt to wet them; a futile attempt though.

"Don't talk, you are injured." You tore a small piece from your own tunic and started to dap the blood away as best as you could; because some of it seemed already dried up and you didn't want to much pressure on it because Thorin even gritting his teeth when you came near that wound. You felt his eyes roam you, but you focussing too much on the wound; examining how deep it was.

"So are you." His deep baritone whispered back. Your merely shrugged as you finally noticed the warm and wet sensation trickling down the side of your neck, apparently originating from your ear or somewhere in that area. You placed the rag on the wound and added pressure to it, causing the prince beneath you to grow rigid and a cursing breath leave his lips. The bleeding had to be stopped somehow, right?  
"Nothing that isn't going to kill me, now try and sit still. I need to stop the bleeding," you softly lectured him and after a while you gently pulled away the now soaked rag, but with a satisfying result; the gash had stopped bleeding. You stroked away some of those long, silver-streaked, black manes of out his face and out of the wound before sitting down on your bum before him.

"It probably needs stitching, but I we are where I think we are then you have a high possibility that it grows a scar," you muttered and ripped another portion from your shirt, only to have it snatched out of your hands by Thorin who motioned for you to come a bit closer. You sat on your knees in front of him when a warm and calloused hand -formed by many battles and years of labour- grasped your chin gently and turned your left face to the prince. A hiss left your lips when you felt the rag being pressed against your left temple.

Immediately a wave of nauseous overwhelmed you when a sickening pain shot through that portion of your head and your hands snatched the hand that held your chin in a reflex, but an iron grip. "Stop," you croaked and the rag was pulled away from your temple, but the nauseating sensation took a long time to disappear.

"Broken," Thorin whispered, his breath fanning your face he carefully turned your head from side to side. "Probably when those knife-ears had hit us on the head.[1]" A deep kind of anger seethed in Thorin voice, causing you to look in his eyes only to see them match his feelings; he was furious. He released your chin and you his hand as you sat back down on your bum. A daunting feeling churning in your guts.

"You know where we are?" You asked, your legs folded beneath you and your hands folded together to make them stop shaking.

"We are captured by Silvan Elves, commonly known as wood-elves." Thorin voice held a huge amount of anger and you narrowed your eyes, not clenching your jaw because that made you temple throb uncomfortably. A flashback raced in front of your eyes, right back to the moment Erebor had been taken by Smaug the dragon.

High upon the mountain stood Thranduil, king of the Silvan Elves and a true sight to behold as he sat there on his pale white deer with an army right behind him. Despite the cries of help from the dwarves and the desperate tinted faces, he merely pulled up his nose and turned around; going back to his kingdom and leaving them for dead. The hands on your lap clenched into fists and your eyes matched the fire that was burning within Thorin's own orbs. He then knew that you knew of what he was talking about, and was relieved somewhere that you felt the same way.

"I see."

"Dwarf!" A majestic voice then suddenly called, cruelly tearing you away from your thoughts and causing you to glare at the owner of that beautiful voice. An elven guard glared at the two of you, clad in full armour and his right hand resting on his sword whilst three other of his kin stood behind him. He gestured briskly to Thorin to come over.

"Come here. The king wishes to speak to you."

Thorin shot the elf a glare that would freeze any kind of man, but not the elf –who just lowered his brow and made his gorgeous, smooth face to darken a bit. You opened your mouth to speak, trying to keep Thorin seated in front of you, but he placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed it softly. Attempting to reassure you that didn't quite succeeded.

The prince walked to the door of your shared prison that had been opened and he was shackled immediately, albeit a bit forcefully. You managed to catch his eerie calm gaze as he mouthed the words "Don't worry, I'll be fine!" to you when he was taken away by the tall elves. The prison door was locked once again and the elf met up with his brethren that rounded the corner and finally disappeared out of sight and out of hearing.

The silence around you was deafening, but all you could do was sit in a corner with your knees pulled up to your chest and just hope that everything was going to be alright. You have never ever felt so lonely in your entire life.

Gradually the sun disappeared with a blinding red casting on the bars in front of you, creating an eerie display of dark shadows on the wall behind it. You slowly crawled on your feet walked to the spot where the sun touched the bars, but you weren't tall enough to feel it's warmth on your face. So you stood on your toes and outstretched your right hand whilst your left steadied you by holding the bars. Finally you managed to feel it; warmth. The tip of your fingers basked in the red hue and a good feeling spread from those very tips throughout your arm and into your being. Then, it finally completely drifted out of your reach and you slowly lowered your arms, a sigh rolling over your lips.

The night was cold, colder than you had imagined. You were too malnourished to exercise to keep yourself warm, so you curled up like a ball and relaxed; because shivering made your brain believe that it was grower colder and colder and relaxation held the illusion that it wasn't all that bad [2]. You drifted in and out of consciousness for periods of time with your head on your knees, completely and utterly exhausted.

Days passed and the only living things beside yourself was the occasional rat and the guard bringing your food and water, ignoring the questions that you asked him in the beginning. After a while you then wisely held your tongue for you knew that he wasn't going to say a thing to you anyway. It was nice to have food though, despite fact you became nauseous of it and each time you chew little needles shot up in your skull, originating from your left broken temple. It still kept you busy though and your spirits up –not that they could get any worse- though the sunlight, that sometimes shone through the very high barred window above you, also helped a lot.

Despite the food and the sunlight, worry kept nagging at you like some festering wound that was slowly spreading and eating you up from the inside out. Questions like: 'What happened to the other dwarves? Were they even alive? And what about Thorin? Was he even still alive?' haunted your mind sick till you were too tired to think.

One day you found yourself waking without any hope left in your gut. There was also no moon light to bring up your spirits and your eyes were only greeted by the familiar darkness that even overwhelmed you in your dark dreams.

"Help, please.. Anyone," you whispered softly to yourself and buried your face in the cradle of your arms that rested on your knees. Your eyes started to burn furiously and a strangled sob rolled over your chapped lips when your back shook from withheld noises that wanted to roll out of your throat, but because they couldn't, you felt your throat slowly constrict. You stayed that way when you had mastered yourself after your tears had finally run dry. A deep sigh came from within you and you felt the threat of sleep once again poke at your mutilated brain. You were almost succumbing to it, if it weren't for the rattling of keys and the sound of your prison door opening.

Immediately you cocked up your head, hope surging momentarily through your being before it was crushed down almost instantly when you saw that the person that had walked into your prison cell was an elf, but without Thorin. The elf had a chair in his hand and placed it in front of the open door, he nodded to the guard and mumbled something in a language that you didn't understand. Elvish perhaps?

The guard bowed at the man and closed the door behind him, albeit a bit hesitating and shot a glare in your direction. Then, with loud footsteps, he walked away. The elf that had come into you cell sat down on the chair, his movements more graceful than you have ever seen a sentient being perform and it almost rendered your breathless if it weren't for the harsh growl of hate inside your gut.

The elf wore a green, leather cuirass with matching brown –but sturdy looking- boots and gloves. He had no weapons, though his physique and the way he was built, told you that he was weapon-trained. Perhaps not in swords, axes or war hammers, but maybe in daggers, short swords and bows. The long hair that hugged his skull flowed down in silky waves across his shoulders and back, but his bangs were pulled back to keep his face free from any loose strands, only to end up in a braid at the back of his skull. The colour of his hair reminded you of white gold glittering in the sun and almost seemed to emanate its own light, but that wasn't the freakiest part.

No, the freakiest parts were his eyes; the deepest and brightest blue you have ever seen in your entire life. They held a sparkle of kindness, wisdom and deep secrets within them. The overall appearance of the elf seem to illuminate the room instantly the moment he sat down and leaned with his elbows on his knees, his perfect sculpted chin resting on long and delicate fingers.

-

"My name is Legolas. Yours must Ayne of Aynúr, if I am correct?" The elf whispered as he sharp eyes took in the form of the woman that was curled into a ball in the far corner. He could see her body tense and her eyes grew darker when she lowered her gaze, avoiding his. Distrust was covering her whole body language and when she still hadn't said a thing to him after some time, Legolas assumed that his question was truthful.

"I understand that you are acquainted with a dwarf named Thorin Oaken-?"

"I have nothing to say to you."

The eyebrows of Legolas quirked up, causing his perfect face to wrinkle a bit. He could see a fire embed itself in the woman's eyes and figured that she was beyond the brink of madness and despair and has made peace for whatever fate that was going to come. He pitied her and envied her at the same time.

"Whatever you want from Thorin what he isn't telling, I won't tell you either."

The woman's words were strong even though her voice was weak. Legolas leaned back in his chair when she stood up; matching him in height now that he was seated, and crossed his legs before he folded his hands in his lap. A smile tucked at his lips and he could see wild fury cross the woman's face, but it was quickly swallowed by a silent but intense hate for him and his people.

"I am not here to discuss Thorin Oakenshield or any of the qualms my father Thranduil has with your kind. I am here to discuss you, your fate and beyond," he whispered. "I am sorry for what he has done to your kind, intentionally or not. I am not my father nor will I ever be, but the fact that I am related to him must give you enough reasons to distrust me. Despite that I can help you get out of here."

-

"How can I trust you on your word?" You whispered, not believing what you were hearing. An elf just walked in, claiming to be the Prince of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil and just offered to help you escape. The blue eyes of the elf stared in your own, making you feel insignificantly small but you dared not to show any weakness before him.

After as short silence he whistled sharply, but strong. Immediately light footsteps echoed through the hall ways and you walked to the side, squinting your eyes against the darkness to see who was coming towards you. A female elf opened the door of your cell, walked inside and then closed it again. Her hair was a beautiful auburn colour, just like her dazzling eyes. Like Legolas, she was perfect in every kind of way; from her toes up to the tip of her head, down to her gracious movement and gorgeous voice. She smiled at you and Legolas, placing a hand on the elf's shoulder as she did so.

"This is Tauriel," Legolas introduced her and gestured from her to you with a fluid hand motion. "She the head of the guard and has saved Bilbo and the rest of the dwarves from the spiders in the forest. If I am correct, they are in their prison cells right now ready to move, right Tauriel?" She nodded and chuckled, causing you to quirk up an eyebrow at the sound that was oddly pleasant in your ears.

"Indeed they are. The one with the crazy hat wanted me to pass this to you to show you that were a trustworthy," Tauriel muttered and walked towards you. You had taken a step back momentarily, causing the elf to pause and kneel down so that the two of you were on eye-level. She reached a hand out to you, that seemed to contain some object and opened it.

Immediately you snatched it from her hands and twirled the object in your fingers, careful not to cut yourself with it and knowing that there was no way that they had gotten it from him freely. You glanced up at the elves, your gaze determined and you voice commanding. It made Tauriel smile.

"I want you to promise that there will be no tricks from either of you."

Legolas and Tauriel shared a glance and then looked at you with heart-warming gazes in their eyes, combined with a thrilled enthusiasm. "We promise."

You had to believe the knife-ears, even though you didn't quite like it, but it gave you at least some hope in this dark cell. After they had told you of their plan -and that it would be initiated in a few days- you shrunk back down in your corner, more awake than ever and listening to their dying footsteps. You had no idea what to make of the elves, but you had no other choice.

With the whittling knife of Bofur tightly clenched in your hands as if it was some kind of life-buoy, you were more than ready to leave this god-forsaken hole with, or without the help of the elves.


	19. Chapter 19: King

**Author's notes:** Thank's again for the reviews, follows and favorites! Love each and either one of them!

Pfiew! Never really made it this far with a fanfiction that I STILL want to keep on writing! Applause for me! :clapclap:

I know I made the Elves a bit more cruel, but I wanted to point out Thranduil's obsession with white gold and that if he is flawed, so are the rest of the Elves (because they are influenced by him as a king of course!). And forgive weird and poor Legolas :(

* * *

Chapter 19: King 

When the first light of dawn had arrived, Legolas had returned once more, but this time he wasn't alone. You caught Thorin, when guards threw him into the cell, with a grunt and slowly lowered him to the ground, he was looking worse than when he had been taken away. His breathing was shallow and you deemed him to be unconscious if it wasn't that he reach up to you, your name leaving his lips inaudible.

You caught his wavering hand and closed your fingers tightly whilst you smiled down at him. "You're safe now, Thorin. Have you told them something?" The dwarf shook his head as best as he could and you turned to Legolas, after slightly hushing Thorin and said that it was best that he would not talk in order to preserve his strength.

"What has Thranduil done to him?"

"Not much. It were some of the guards. Some were quite.. dishonouring, so to speak. They were relentless in beating him. Thank the Avvar that I had managed to snatch him away from their cruel hands, for my father was busy with your dwarves," Legolas muttered slowly as he helped you sit Thorin against the wall in a proper manner and release the shackles from his wrists.

You stroked away from his black manes out of the ugly wound on his brow that had changed into a thick black crust. It was hideous, but perhaps for the best. Unfortunately for the prince, it would leave a long and nasty scar. You turned to Legolas when he placed a hand on your shoulder, the look in the elf's eyes made you swallow thick; for it was filled with pity and sorrow.

"My father has asked me to bring you to him." The daunting words were spoken with no room for discussion. Thorin stirred and managed to grab a hold of your hand, trying to hold you back when you moved to stand. You fell back on your knees before him, your hands cradling his and stared into those grey depths of your king. You squeezed the appendages momentarily when you spoke with a slightly wavering voice.

"I will come back. Don't worry, Thorin," you whispered to him, your heart wrenching when you knew that you had to leave him in this sorry state. You saw him swallow a couple of times, trying to get saliva coat his mouth . Quickly you searched for your bowl of water and took the last drops with your finger. Gently you ran the finger over his chapped lips, moistening them just enough for him to speak and lap some water up with his tongue.

"Be careful, Ayne."

You gave his hands a final squeeze and nodded firmly. Then you rose to your feet, knowing that those stormy depths tracked every movement you made. Legolas put shackles on your wrists and took you along. Guards were on either side of you and Legolas in front, leading you to his fathers and King of Mirkwood. Once again you were amazed by the sheer height of the elves (you barely reached their chest!) and felt incredibly disadvantaged when you were forced along through endless of corridors and up countless of staircases.

You tried to keep a track of where you were going, but eventually you just gave up; this was too similar to a complicated maze and it just made your temple throb painfully when you gave it another go. Finally you reached one of the upper dwellings and looked around with wide eyes, because it seemed that the Silvan Elves were dwelling in carved out caverns in the middle of Mirkwood forest. The caverns didn't look dwarf-made by the slightest, because the arches were too graceful for your liking and with vines curling around it. Giving it an elvish touch. Here and there were trees on patches of grass; large and with silvery leaves that seem to emanate the same glow like the trees in Mirkwood and served to illuminated the large courtyard faintly whilst you and your escort crossed it with hasty paces.

Then you reached a giant oaken door, once that Legolas pushed open and went in first. You arrived in a giant hall, filled with light, pale grey rock and white gold glittering here and there. Your eyes tracked to the giant throne before you with a staircase of at least 30 steps. You felt the armoured hands of you guards settle on your shoulders and pushed you down on your knees roughly. Legolas bowed gracefully before his king, that had some of his liking but not quite.

King Thranduil was a very tall Elf, even taller than Legolas or the rest of his king. He was dressed in a whitish robes and grey leather, but with a sword hanging on a dark grey belt. His hair nearly matched the white wooden crown on his head, that was adorned with berries and red auburn leaves. His eyes were the same dazzling colour of blue that Legolas possessed.

You decided there and then that Legolas looked very much like his father, but did not contain the icy and arrogant stature that he father did contain. For a moment you could see Thranduil turn around once again, sitting on his white deer and an army flanking him. You felt anger course through you veins as you sat there on your knees, staring up at the elf with fire in your eyes.

He smirked and stood up, gracefully as ever and slowly walked down the staircase after he had dismissed Legolas with a single motion of his hand. "Well, well. Ayne, daughter of Aynúr the Betrayer. You were the last person I expected to follow Thorin Oakenshield." Though Thranduil's voice sounded like the saddest and most beautiful melody in your ears, it held a dark and smug tone as if he was mocking you and Thorin with great pleasure.

"Tell me, why have you been treading through my forest? You were walking on the path, made by my people and attacking them. There must be a simple reason for that," he said and stood before you, his enchanting gaze holding your own. There was something about his eyes that unwilling to look away. They were so.. beautiful. The way the light of the trees made the spark and his overall physique made them really pop out.

You felt the urge rise to say something, anything, to please Thranduil; the benevolent and kind King of Mirkwood before you. Faintly you noticed that your mouth opened and closed on its own and your throat rasp when you tried to formulate words. Cold sweat started to drip down your neck as your mind started to gather what was going on.

The king leaned in slightly, seeing you struggle and his gaze grew in intensity. Incoherent elvish whispering seem to come from afar but drift into your ears. "I.. we-" you began. Desperately you tried to control the stream of words that wanted to roll over your lips. That bastard was enchanting you! But it felt so serene. It wouldn't do anyone harm to tell him _something_ right?

"Yes? You wanted to say something?" Thranduil whispered, kneeling so that the distance between the two of you closed even more. Despite that, he was so tall that he was still looking down upon you. You felt your lips and throat run dry when it felt like he was whispering right inside your head. The words echoed and echoed, repeating itself endlessly in your ears and right there at that moment you threatened to succumb to it if it weren't for that moment that Legolas seemed to 'stumble' and knock over a white vase, tearing the King's gaze away from you and allowing you to regain yourself.

You sucked in a deep breath whilst your eyes glanced at the King's feet for a moment, trying to make the light-headed feeling go away. _'Thank you, Legolas,'_ you thought.

"Fool, watch out where you walk!" The King snapped at Legolas, who mumbled a mere sorry and bowed before his father as an apology. Thranduil focused his gaze once again upon you, noticing that your lips slightly tucked, whether this was a smirk or an involuntary movement he did not know.

"You had wanted to say something?" His honey coated voice spoke, but was this time immediately greeted by a direct answer before he had even finished his sentence.

"We were hungry. So we followed the lights, that seemed to have been your people, because we wanted to beg for food," you muttered. Almost feeling relieved to be able to tell this lie to the King. A flash of frustration and anger shot across Thranduil's face as his calm composure seemed to dwindle bit by bit.

"Hungry?" The words left his trembling lips when he slowly straightened himself, towering above you.

"Yes. Hungry. In case you haven't noticed, we are quite malnourished and underfed because we have been rationing for a very long time now," you explained like the King was some kind of a lunatic. In a flash Thranduil had pulled his sword and the tip was now pointing at your throat. You straightened yourself a bit, but did not back away. Your eyes glided from the gorgeous inscribed sword to his own blue and endless depths. This time you did not waver and succumb to the elf's magic, this time your own will was stronger.

"As expected from dwarves; all liars." Thranduil seethed between his perfect white teeth and thin lips. "Your kin are all alike. All seeking power, fortune and always hunger for more," he began and slightly stretched his arm so that you could feel the tip of his sword poke at the underside of your chin. A sly grim formed on your lips and there was a flash of fury in the King's eyes.

"Aren't you seeking that as well, King Thranduil with the hunger for white gold? A thing that he doesn't have the knowledge for nor the skill the make, thus desires it so much?" You coyly whispered, well aware that you were openly insulting the King of Mirkwood. You had seen the way the King had touched his White golden goblet where he had been drinking from before he rose to walk down the staircase, but also how his eyes roamed across the room with greed displayed in those ancient and sorrowful depths. Grunts of your guards above you echoed their dismay and you felt the tension in the room grow slightly more hostile.

_'Careful now, Ayne.' _

"I should kill you for that insult," Thranduil whispered after taking a deep and long breath. His voice was almost as calm as before, but your dwarf-ears could pick up the tremors of rage latched onto it. He forced your chin up with the tip of his sword and you felt the dull pain of punctured skin when he did so.

"But I won't. Take her back to her cell. Maybe a few weeks without food and water will change her mind," he dismissed, sheathing his swords one more and turned his back at you.

The guards immediately lifted you up quite roughly and immediately a gauntleted fist managed to drive its way right into your stomach. You gasped at the punch and wanted to crumble into a little ball, but the guards wouldn't have it and briskly dragged you along. They threw a punch now and then as their majestic laughter held a dark and sadistic undertone in it. A tone that took away the magic that the elves seem to possess.

You were thrown onto the stone floor without mercy -after your shackles were removed- and heard the lock of your cell twist and turn behind you, indicating that you were stuck here once more. Two large and warm hands took a gentle hold of your shoulders and helped you sit, albeit a bit groaning and half-heartedly because of your sore stomach.

"Easy, easy.." you hissed and swallowed away the metallic taste in your mouth. "Man, that guy is an ass." It was an effort to make the atmosphere a bit lighter than what now hung around the two of you. Thorin sat against the wall beside you, still looking worse for wear and his storm coloured eyes held some deep thoughts of what he shared some, but not all.

"They had punched you hard didn't they?" Thorin whispered, his eyes gliding to your hands that held your abdomen and stomach in a way that screamed "Painful!" to him. You shifted a bit uncomfortably because of the dull throbbing that shot up from you abused muscles and shook some hair from your face. Your legs were outstretched in front of you and for the first time you actually noticed how dirty you really were. Damn, you could pass up for a beggar! The smell must be unbearable.

"Nothing I can't handle," you merely whispered back and stared at your feet. In the corner of your eyes you could see Thorin look up at the small barred window, high up the wall and just below the ceiling. His strong right shoulder was pressed against your left and the shallow breathing coming from him eased your mind. You were glad that he was save here with you once more, so much that you found yourself opening and closing your mouth several times to say something, but couldn't find the words.

Instead of moping about the words, you laid your hand on his knee and squeezed softly. A smile tucked at your lips when one of his own closed above yours –warm, calloused and strong- and gripped your hand tight, like he was acknowledging you and your womanly gratitude. As simple as it was, it somehow made your feel stomach feel a bit funny.

"I had a visitor," his deep voice spoke, breaking the easy silence –that had been dwelling for some time- between the two of you effectively.

"Who?"

"An invisible hobbit."

You snapped your head around, cringing slightly at your throbbing brains and temple, but your eyes immediately locked into his. You quirked up one eyebrow and barely noticed the thumb –of his hand holding yours- was going back and forth over the skin of your own hand in a soothing matter. A small smile was tucking at Thorin's lips and a deep inner-fire erupted in his grey eyes, making you grin.

"And?"

"We escape tonight."


	20. Chapter 20: Barrels

**Author's notes:** I completely fucked this chapter up. I just wasn't 'in-tune' Sorry.. :depressed:

Question: What would you like to see next chapter?

* * *

Chapter 20: Barrels

That night you were too riled up to sleep. Your hands fumbled with the whittling knife that Bofur had given to via Tauriel –you explained Thorin- too make sure you trusted her and Legolas. But where were the Elves now? As if someone heard you think, the sound of shuffling and multiple footsteps echoed in the long and dark corridors of the dungeon. Deep grunts, hushed sounds and soft yelps were heard alongside it.

A smile tucked on your lips and you slowly raised yourself on your feet, gaining balance by leaning against the wall and ignoring the discomforting pain in your abdomen. The wound on your left temple had become quite painful, throbbing with each motion of your head and affecting your balance now and then. Thorin had seen you wobble now and then, but he said nothing for he could not heal a fractured skull with just his voice or eyes.

Then, out of the shadows, a familiar figure emerged with keys dangling in his small hands. "Glad to see that you are ready, we don't have much time," Bilbo whispered as he unlocked their cell. When Thorin and you walked out of it, the two of you were greeted by encouraging whispers like "I know you weren't dead" and "Thank Durin's beard you're alright!". You were hugged by Bofur as he muttered one of those things and you took the opportunity to press the whittling knife back in his hands.

"Thank you, for the whittling knife." you muttered softly, a small grin tucking at your lips.

"It was just a small effort to make, lass! If there is anything I can do to help you, I will. Alright?"

You nodded and pulled away gently from his grasp when Thorin motioned for everyone to be quiet. His sharp eyes –that seemed nothing but gleaming coals in this darkness- glanced around the company and even though his deep baritone voice whispered, you could hear it bounce back from the walls straight into your ears. This place had a horrible loud echo.

"We have to be very quiet, since it was just pure luck that you hadn't encountered any guards on your way here," he briskly voiced his frustrations. You felt him focus upon you and your straightened your back, attempting to show that you were fitter than you actually were. Thorin wasn't convinced and thus worry tinted his voice as he spoke to you; "Ayne, are you going to keep up?"

"Aye, I will. Even if I have to split my head open by doing so." Your determination gave the dwarves a slightly reassured feeling, because who hadn't seen how the wound on your left temple was horridly crusted and the oddly pale complexion on your face. Despite with how you felt, you really needed to escape and you did not plan to slow everyone down.

The company followed Bilbo down to the wine cellars and passed two sleeping elves, who had –according to Bilbo- a little too much to drink, on their toes and softly whispering voices. Bilbo stopped at huge barrels and pointed at them and a wooden hatch.

"They toss the empty barrels down through that hatch in the water. Too let the barrels through they will need to open a gate that prevents anyone from swimming in or out. With each shipment of barrels they automatically open the gates, this is our way to get out," the little hobbit explained. The dwarves couldn't help but to feel impressed of Bilbo.

"Amazing," you muttered, giving everyone's thoughts a voice.

"Uhm, thanks." The hobbit scratched the back of his head for a moment as you was just perplexed of how thorough Bilbo was. He was truly a good asset to the team and now he finally started to see it himself. It was a joy to behold. Alas, there was no time, for Bofur whispered that he could hear voices coming down from the staircases and to the wine cellar.

"Quickly, into those barrels!" Bilbo pointed at the barrels that were stacked upon each other, but each empty and more than big enough to fit a dwarf of the company's calibre. Heck, even Bombur could fit in them and had room to spare, and that was quite something!

"Bifur!" The said dwarf jumped immediately at your side and helped you into one of the top barrels by grasping your sides and lifting you higher whilst you jumped. You deftly managed to 'throw' yourself into the barrel and was stunned how _big_ the barrels were now that you were in it. They were made out of oak and were tightly compressed, thus successfully minimizing the possibility of leaks.

You then leaned out of your barrel and glanced around, helping direct the other dwarves to the other empty barrels. Your eyes met those of Bofur, who had the barrel on your left and smiled when his deep brown eyes gave you a comforting wink.

You took the lid of the barrel from Bilbo with a firm nod and a gleam in your eyes that made the hobbit feel more hopeful than he'd been this entire time. "Good luck, master hobbit," you smiled at him and closed your barrel, letting the darkness close you in and silence take over as you figured that Bilbo had crawled in his own barrel. For moment nothing happened, but then you heard footsteps and the sound of delicious laughter.

Several Elves were muttering words to each other their own language, one that you couldn't decipher for yourself so you had no clue what they were saying, thus you had no time to prepare for the immense tumble when the Elves let the barrels roll down the hatch.

Your stomach lurched into your throat the moment you felt your barrel move, tumble, roll and eventually fall. You had braced yourself against the wood, preventing your small dwarven body to be thrown against the sides when you felt other barrels collided and crash against your own. A stifled yelp left your lips when a particular hard bump startled you, and the worst thing that could have happen, happened; your barrel had sprung a leak.

"Shit, shit, **shit!**" Strings of curses echoed against the sides of the barrel that had finally stopped tumbling and was now drifting upside down. You twisted yourself until you weren't upside down any more and pressed your hands against the crack, trying to hold back the water but it just seeped through your fingers and trickled down your arms. At first the water was oozing out of the crack very slowly and into your barrel. Suddenly it just grew and the water wasn't just seeping but literally gushing inside!

"Fuck!" You cursed out loudly and desperately tried to get the bottom of the barrel –which was now on top- to open by slamming against it; not caring if Elves could see you or if it was safe enough to get out. You were going to get out any way! One way or another, you refused to drown in the water that had now already risen up to ankles.

The barrel was slowly sinking, you felt it someone in your gut, as you tried to work on the lid. You slammed your fists on it as hard as you could, ignoring the splinters that grazed your skin scraped knuckles. Cold sweat was trickling down your brow and neck whilst your heart hammered painfully against your ribcage. Finally, an ear-deafening crack, the smell of fresh air and a gleam of daylight made you laugh of relief. It only took a well-aimed final blow to break the lid.

Water immediately gushed over the edge and even though the barrel remained floating, it was of no use to stay, so you swam out of it and into the cold, dark and murky water of the river. The moment the water had completely engulfed you, you immediately felt your body heat being sucked away like a leech sucking blood from its host.

The cold was embedding itself in your bones and turned your lips and fingers blue as you drifted along, holding onto your own broken barrel that served as some kind of a buoy and let the current of the water take you wherever it wanted to take you. Then an unwilling thought crossed your mind; _'What if I am not the only thing drifting in these waters? What if something is dwelling beneath me in those dark depths? Something.. sharp..'_

Fear started to close an iron grip around your freezing heart, but then was quickly forgotten when the sound of cracking and splitting wood drifted in your hear-canal. One by one, the lids of the other barrels were broken and you could hear several dwarves take in a deep amount of the fresh air with probably relieved faces (the barrels were quite obscuring your sight from where you were at water level, so you couldn't their faces).

"We're free! We're off!" The voice of Bofur cheered and then there was the sound of skin, meeting skin. Probably a high five. Your body started to quake and tremble uncontrollably by now.

"Bilbo! You made it with us! Although drenched and clinging on a barrel like a rat." Nori's voice stated with a hint of something joyful in it.

"Twelve, thirteen.. Fourteen. Thorin, I only count fourteen barrels instead of fifteen!" The voice of Balin yelled, apparently over-looking your half-sunken barrel.

"Who're we missing? Dori, Ori, Fili, Kili.. Ayne. Where is Ayne?" The deep voice of Dwalin counted with a string of colourful curses and fierceness.

Your name bounced around from dwarf to dwarf. You sputtered, keeping your lips out of the water as your voice croaked; "Here! I'm here!" but it was way too soft for anyone to hear and because of your lips were trembling and your teeth were chattering beyond the point of control.  
The cold was slowly making your limps and appendages grow numb, as you pedalled along when panic started to spread around the company like wild fire.

"I'm here!" You cried out again and had let go of your barrel, only to swim in the view of the dwarves with weak strokes of your arms and legs. "My barrel.. leaked," you sputtered, not wanting to swallow some of the icy water that was draining every ounce of energy you've got. Yet somehow you managed to gain some speed.. how odd.

"Ayne, grab my hands." It was Dwalin and he was the closest to you. He held out his enormous hands for you to grab on to. Somehow you managed and curled your fingers around the edge of his barrel without tipping it over as you hoisted yourself a bit out of the water, clutching at the edge like a drowned cat. The voice of the berserker dwarf had been dead serious as he had looked ahead before he called you to his barrel. One of his hands held the back of your neck and your collar tightly; keeping you pressed again his barrel and half of your body out of the water.

"Whatever you do, don't let go." You felt yourself pale even more and was trembling from head to toe because of the cold. The current of the water was speeding up and you felt your eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as you looked up to the giant tattooed dwarf that had you pinned against his barrel.

"W-what's- what's w-wrong?"

"Ayne, don't let go. Hold on!" Thorin roared from somewhere and the ear-deafening sound of roaring water, echoed in the air, almost drowning his words instantly. The next thing you knew, you were in for quite a ride.

Water surged around you, making you gasp for air and swallow down water. Your weak limbs were screaming in agony as you clutched Dwalin's barrel for dear life, clenching your eyes and mouth shut when you fell down a waterfall, again and again, floating in the dark depths of the river for a short moment, only to break the foamy white surface once more.

There was so much chaos and screaming, that you couldn't recall later on when you had let go of the barrel. Dwalin's grip on you also instantly faltered and all that you felt was the strong powerful current pulling and tearing at you underwater. All that you could see was blackness; all that you could breathe was water and all that you could hear was the roaring water from above that made your ears ring.

How long you had been underwater, you had no idea, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, the water seemed to part from your body and a chilly freshness smacked your hard in the face. It graced your skin like a stinging blade when suddenly something hard collided against your cheek.

Instantly you shot up, your fingers delving in the gravel -in a spastic, uncontrolled matter- of the river banks that you had been pulled up to. Your body wretched without a second though, the moment someone flipped you on your stomach. Huge amounts of water gushed from your mouth, along with some stomach fluids. Each time you wretched, you felt your stomach contract in a painful matter and several hands patted your back. One pair stroked back your drenched hair, which now clung to your face like a spider to its web.

"Easy, laddie. Now take a deep breath," a kind, but old trembling voice said near your right ear.

You obeyed without hesitation and ordered your lungs to suck in oxygen, albeit with a wheezing sound. The sharpness of the air caused your eyes to tear up and cough, which almost made you wretch again in turn.

"Ssh. Breathe, lass. Slowly," someone else said, his voice holding a familiar accent. A hand patted your back, easing the cough out of your reeling body.

You tried again, this time much slower and with a little more ease than the previous breath. Your eyes blinked a couple of times, making your brain to register that you were actually staring at the gravel of where your fingers had buried themselves into. At least, you thought that it were your fingers. The appendages were so pale that they were almost transparent. Then, you started to shake all over, your muscles pulling and contracting way beyond your control. Your teeth also started to chatter so hard that you were afraid that they would break each time they slammed down upon each other. It felt like so much time had passed in this simple moment that only lasted for a few mere seconds in reality.

"Gloin! Get the fire going as quickly as possible!" A deep, baritone voice from above you commanded. Two pair of strong arms hoisted your up with the greatest ease, and then everything grew black once more.


	21. Chapter 21: Inner Demons

**Author's notes:**Holy f- cow! This chapter just reeks of awesomeness! Enjoy! :D (I just hope that I got the 'Thorin-part' right.)

[1]I once had huge cramp in my foot and it made my big toe move on it's own! This is something similair!  
[2] Gimli quote! Couldn't help myself, ha!  
[3] Face it gals: we all love the mysteriously brooding type! For they seem way out of our league and are deliciously desirable because of that fact.

* * *

Chapter 21: Inner Demons

You had never been so glad to be sitting around a fire with only your smallclothes and a blanket tightly wrapped around you. Tauriel and Legolas had brought everyone's armour, clothes and some food, including something that looked like a strange 'cookie'. It was lembas bread. A grown man could nibble of it and immediately feel that his hunger was satiated.

You had three, before your stomach finally stopped growling.

A shiver ran over your spine and you huddled closer to the fire, your scraped knuckles clutching the blanket as if you were afraid that it would fly off and away in the distance. Legolas had also treated your head trauma –you were made to swallow _something_- and it felt better already! The wound had been cleaned properly and it didn't feel like someone was stabbing a knife through it.

A silent "Thank you," to the Avvar had left your lips and watched how Dori managed to force the fire to burn hotter and brighter by poking the wood on which it fed. Bofur sat opposite of you, his hands once again fumbling with his wooden block (of where you could some part of it as a wing) and his whittling knife. The way he slowly worked on the wood though, betrayed that his mind was occupied with other things than just whittling.

"You are lucky to be alive, lassie. Why has you barrel sprung leak?" Balin muttered, nibbling on some dried meat and his white beard furrowed for a moment. You shrugged your sore shoulder muscles –almost wincing, but not quite- and took a deep and shivering breath, remembering that moment vividly.

"I don't know, probably because it hit the sharp ends of a rock or something. Anyway, I knew I had to get out otherwise I would have surely drowned," you muttered softly. Your blue-grey eyes sliding from the old dwarf and back to the fire, not allowing your body to shiver anymore and forced it to relax. Someone sat down beside you and large calloused hand was placed on yours, which awfully gripped the blanket like it was some kind of life buoy.

"There were lots of sharp rocks points of the underground passage from where we floated to the river. I.. I'm sorry to say, but we are lucky that only yours appeared to be the weaker one," Bilbo clumsily sat, his hands holding nibbled lembas and his large hobbit feet stretched out.

The hands pried your fingers open, tenderly and careful, causing you to wince as cramp caused the appendages to turn almost into unwilling claws. [1] Steel met your own eyes when you looked up, sucking any thought of struggling –you were seriously considering tearing your hands from his own- out of your mind. Thorin's calloused hands cupped your own and started to massage them slowly. His large fingers oddly tender as he took time to warm the tendon in your hand and made them supple again.

The cramp in your hands disappeared slowly, but steady and somehow your entire body came along; relaxing, but not as forced as before. You watched how his black manes, with streaks of silver here and there, hung down as he was bent over your hands; giving them his full attention. You barely noticed someone standing up and walking away when he looked up, his face warmly lit by the light of the fire and causing his piercing grey eyes to twinkle.

"I am supposed to tell you not to do that anymore –putting yourself in life-threatening danger-, but somehow I think it will hardly matter." Thorin's deep baritone voice drifted in your ears and pleasantly played with your eardrums. You slid your hands out of his soft grip, flexing them and noticing that they felt a lot better now. A grin flashed across your face, whilst you did so.

"What can I say? I love a certainty of death, small chance of success and wonder what heck I am waiting for?[2] I know that everyone is thinking the same!"

-

Bilbo noticed that the mirth returned back to Ayne's eyes and the life oozed back into her voice. The pale complexion of her face was slowly dissipating as the sun slowly sunk to the horizon. His eyes had followed Bofur standing up and walking away the moment Thorin had grasped Ayne's hands. The dwarf had plumped himself down with his back against a tree, his face displaying nothing of the inner turmoil that surged in the poor dwarf's head.

The night came swiftly, for clouds were brewing above and stealing away the remaining light with such a skill of stealth that was unparalleled by everything walking on the earth below. Bofur was still seated on his spot over-looking the camp, despite the looks his concerned brother Bombur occasionally shot at him whilst he was preparing dinner.

Who was he to treasure the hope of him and.. '_No, don't think like that, Bofur,_' the toymaker scolded himself and refused to think that way. His chocolate eyes slid from his little 'project' to the most amazing woman he had ever met, only to be smitten once more. The light of the fire gently flickered on this mysterious being that had captured the poor Bofur's heart. Each time the corner of her perfect mouth tucked upwards, he felt his stomach lurch with a thousand butterflies that were soaring within him.

Bifur had approached him the moment Ayne had gone to bed, a few weeks back at Beorn's house. Even though his brother was silent and only grumbling incoherent noises, Bofur knew what he meant after the dwarf cocked his head to their king. Apparently Bofur wasn't the only to be captured by this perfect specimen of the opposite sex.

Bofur's eyes traced the figure of Ayne to Thorin, who was seated next to her in a manner that their shoulders sometimes brushes against each other the moment one of them moved. The dwarf couldn't help but to feel a little pang of jealousy in his corrupted heart. Bofur had to be realistic; he was quite in the disadvantage. For starters, he wasn't of royal blood nor from an exceptional lineage, second; he didn't hold the deep, dark and mysterious persona that Thorin obviously had (and apparently that character trait attracted quite a lot of the female folk[3]). Then again he didn't think that Ayne was the type that would blindly followed a man for just being attractive; she was the type of woman that looked passed a man's physique and bring out the worst and best of them and that was his final and third disadvantage; he couldn't help but to feel afraid of the emotions that she extracted from him.

Bofur's past was a dark one filled with deep mines, hard labour, death and crime before he turned in the positively charged man that he is now. A past that the poor toymaker weaved inside his stories and covered up with his humour and self-mockery. Every time Ayne talked to poor Bofur, he felt completely turned inside out by those incredible grey-blue eyes of hers and that made him feel unbearably naked and uncomfortable. Yet it was so strangely addictive to be accepted like he really was.

The dwarf was abruptly pulled from his day dreams when his eyes followed Ayne standing up, the blanket around her just hanging around her bare shoulders, showing a delicate neckline and the beginning of scars that covered the poor woman's back in great number. Bofur's mouth grew dry when he watched a long, bare and athletic leg appear from underneath the long blanket, only to step over some backpacks of the other dwarves with perfectly shaped bare feet. A lump formed in the dwarf's throat when the sound of her delicious laughter rang in his ears.

His chocolate eyes followed the beautiful dwarf- '_No, she has to be one of the Ainur,_' Bofur corrected himself- to the branch of where her clothes hang to dry. Bofur's observant eyes also noticed Fili and Kili overstretching their necks to the female specimen of their own kind. He watched her hands touch the fabric of her clothing and pulled them off the branch.

"Strip! Strip!- Ouch!" Kili yelled, earning a slap of his brother Fili –who was more modest. Ayne stuck out her tongue at him, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

"Yeah, you would like that right? Alas boys, no show tonight!" Kili's face over-dramatically fell at her words, but Bofur could see mirth and a curiosity flicker in the youngster's eyes. She disappeared momentarily, only to appear dressed with her sleeves rolled up and the blanket in her hands (that she gave to a half-asleep Ori, whom welcomed it greatly and snuggled in it).

"Have you ever been married, Ayne?" Kili then boldly asked, making Bofur's eyes brows to rise for a moment and in the corner of his eyes he could see Thorin straighten for a moment and also lay his eyes on the woman; who merely shrugged her shoulders and halted her stride, placing her hands on her hips after she stroked some bangs behind her ears.

"I never had opportunity, nor find the right person if you must know," she told Kili with a matter-of-fact voice. It was lie. Bofur could tell by the way her mirth eyes had darkened for just a tiny whiny second when she thought back of times that were long lost, forgotten and probably buried. Suddenly a smile managed to creep its way on Ayne's face and she apologized, her voice soft.

"I am sorry, that was a lie. He died about fifty years ago," she muttered and sat back down next to Thorin, gratefully taking the bowl of warm stew in her hands that Bombur offered and started to eat slowly, careful not to burn her mouth.  
Kili's face instantly turned from curiosity into shame, for he suddenly realized that he had asked about quite a private thing. Fili stammered, trying to cover his brother; "W-we're.. We're sorry. We had no idea- " Ayne just smiled and waved the arguments away with her hand.

"Don't feel bad about asking. He died the noble death of protecting me from Wargs that had sucked themselves on my caravan –I was travelling to the Iron Hills to trade with the dwarrow there-. He was one of the few that actually had some fighting experience, aside from me. He was mortally wounded and perished; it was sad, yes. But I have moved on and live the life that he had saved."

Ayne spoke with truth colouring her voice. The young brothers instantly felt relieved that they weren't being scolded or made a beautiful woman cry. In fact, she seemed to speak fondly of her deceased husband to Bilbo who was interested in the dwarf that he was. Bofur had to admit, he was too, and he could see that Thorin was also listening by the way his grey eyes burned holes in the flames of the bonfire.

His name appeared to be Loiruf, a simple tradesman that she had met on a market at Bree that had a warrior background, like her. The two instantly fell in love and started to court a week later. She apparently had travelled with him with his caravan from market to market in different cities throughout Middle-Earth. He had taught her how to swim and several handy survival instincts during their travels and married after a year they had met.

"Loiruf was the one that taught me to enjoy life to the fullest because it's such a precious thing, despite its dark sides. He was a bit like Bofur, actually; always laughing, always joking and always able to make you appreciate everything and turn a smile on your lips."

Bofur couldn't help but to feel his heart grow at her kind words. He smiled and looked down at the little wooden figure that was slowly shaping itself in his crafty hands. So she thought of him like that? His chocolate eyes looked up at the woman once more, meeting her own for just a short moment and the smile that made her face illuminate made him grateful that he was seated on the ground. He refused to blush but tipped his hat instead with a grin gracing his features. A happy, giddy feeling coursed through his body –originating from his butterfly filled belly- and warmed him all over.

Maybe. Just maybe.

-

The night was growing darker and darker by the hour and your voice had grown a bit hoarse from talking to Bilbo until the hobbit could barely prevent his eyelids to shut down. The dwarves that weren't asleep yet, were ready to get to bed, when you stood up and walked to the edge of camp; to the gravel river banks that held your barely alive body for less than twelve hours ago.

The moon was out and shone its enchantingly silver light on world below, making flecks of silver appear on the ground around you through holes of the canopy of the trees. You crossed your arms over your chest, hugging yourself as a particular cold breeze graced your being and made the leaves above your head rustle softly like thousand whispers.  
Then, something warm and heavy was draped across your shoulders, instantly shielding you from the cold and granting you a great deal of warmth at the same time. It smelled faintly of sweat, fire but strongly of oak and pine trees; causing your nose to tickle pleasantly. Your hand reached up, latching into fur when you saw someone appear in the corner of your eyes.

"You were cold," Thorin answered the unspoken question that was no doubt burning within your eyes. A smile tucked at your lips as you snuggled in his coat.

"Aren't you cold now?" You questioned.

"I can bear the cold for just a few moments longer," was his answer. The prince folded his arms behind his back as he silently watched the beautiful scenery displayed in front of the two of you; namely the gorgeous shimmering of the moon light on the rushing water and the solitary peak way in the distance; Erebor.

"I haven't thought of the journey to be this.. problematic," you slowly began, breaking the silence between the two of you. Thorin remained silent, urging you to go on by just a glance of his eyes.

"I am sorry, for being the burden that I am. I did not mean to-"

"You are never a burden," Thorin cut you off, taking a step closer to you and placing one of his large hands on your shoulders. Making you look up briefly in his eyes, only to quickly avert them because of the intensity that was held within those grey depths. "You are simply good at finding trouble," his deep baritone voice whispered.

"Yeah, if it weren't for Bilbo we would have all died back there with the trolls, remember?" You chuckled half-heartedly, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere that was suddenly settling between you and Thorin. You felt your cheeks slowly heat up when you suddenly noticed Thorin's actual proximity to you and how his right hand gently squeezed your left shoulder.

"We would have also died if it wasn't for your courage, Ayne. Remember Azog?"

You suddenly found the scales of his armour very interesting. They shone very faintly in the dimmed lighting of the moon that managed to come and shine on the ground between the trees that covered your heads. Thorin's hand on your shoulder moved a bit and felt his fingers play with the strands of your hair that were close to the digits. A pang of regret, for your long golden locks, shot through your heart.

"I wasn't courageous.. I was afraid-"

"And you stuffed it away and refused to curl up and die."

The tips of Thorin's fingers grazed your flustered left cheek. They were pleasantly cold, yet warm at the same time. Slowly his whole palm cupped your face, causing you reached up to take a gently hold on his wrist but allowing this simple, yet moving gesture. Your eyes gazed up into his own that were much closer than you had expected as you leaned in his touch. A heavy silence settled between the two you, an opportunity that your heart took to ram so hard against your ribcage, that you were confident that Thorin could hear it.

"Thorin-" you began, but was immediately silenced when his lips pressed against your own.

Your mind was blown at the held back passion that made Thorin's lips to tremble as he tried to be gentle and tender. Although the feeling was foreign for just a moment, you adjusted pretty quickly to it and moved your lips with his own whilst your one of your hands curled around the hem of his scale cuirass and the other slide up his neck, your thumb grazing his short, but soft beard.

The prince moved to stand in front of you, his other hand resting in the junction of your throat and collar bone, whilst the other weaved through your hair and made it possible to deepen the kiss; which he of course did as he threw away every thought of being cautious. And god, he was so good at it.

With renewed passion, Thorin pressed his lips harder against your own and moved in such a delicious way –with a hint of tongue sweeping over your lower lip- that made your stomach soar, your mind to be blown and your libido sky rocket into the heavens. When you felt the desire to press yourself tightly against the prince, you decided to do the opposite and slowly pulled back and out of his grasp when you mind overruled the delicious sensations that coursed in your body with reason and wit. Just in time because someone scraped his throat, making the both of you jump and step away from each other until there was surely three feet between the two of you.

Bofur was leaning against a tree, but there was something off about him when he smiled at you and Thorin. "I am sorry to _disturb_ you, but I just wanted to say that maybe it's wise for the two of you to return to camp. I heard that wolves roamed these lands." His voice was like a hard smack in your face; a venomous, regret and scorching smack that left the nasty taste of worry and regret on your tongue.

Without waiting for a response the toymaker turned around, his shoulders slumped and his arms hanging beside his body. With each step the dwarf took, he could feel tiny fractures appear throughout his heart, only to shatter it in a million pieces.


	22. Chapter 22: Fog

**Author's notes:** Wow! Thanks a lot for the amazing reviews! I had never imagined that Bofur would be so popular/loved since almost everyone wanted for Ayne to be paired up with Thorin! Good news gals; he isn't going down without a fight! I have to confess that last chapter's ending was also really hard for me to write. All the time I was like: GAH! MY FEELS! ;_;

Now, here is a new chapter and a cookie! Why a cookie? Because this is so far the longest fanfic I have ever done and one I even want to finish! The rest just stopped around chapter 8 or something and bled to death because I had no inspiration left or found other interests. You guys really keep me going! So there for; a cookie! (and a hug)

I had also originally planned for the dwarves to arrive at Laketown, but the plot-bunny plague has taken over! The next chapter is going to be so **awkward**! :squee:

* * *

Chapter 22: Fog

After that night, everything was slowly spiralling down towards hell; Bofur had no urge to talk to you and just simple ignored you when you tried to strike a conversation if his cousin or brother didn't lead you away from him or Bilbo tried to distract you. You obviously felt distressed and immediately had begun to regret for what happened between you and Thorin; who just grew awfully distant to the other dwarves (including you) and conversed with Dwalin or Balin.

For days the company was follow the river with the faint hope to come across a town, village or some other landmark, so that they knew where exactly they were in the wilderness of Middle-Earth. You had fallen back to your usual place; namely at the back of the company. Bilbo was inclined to walk with you even though you had no desire for company, or to talk with anyone for that matter, but every time he just said; "We don't have to talk if you don't want to, but you look like you could use someone to walk with you," and that was enough for you.

On the occasion, Fili and Kili walked with you; throwing jokes here and there and trying to urge you in conversation. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, but you always felt a little better when talking to the brothers.

Three days after the incident, the company was still walking alongside the river with no traces to be seen from the outside world. It was quite foggy, handicapping your vision with a considerable amount. You guessed that it was around noon when Thorin held up his hand and issued the company to stop, but couldn't be sure because the sun just seemed to have disappeared in the mist and clouds above them.

"We camp here for a short while. Gloin; get a fire going, Dori, Bombur; start cooking. Fili, Kili; count our provisions and take stock. Ayne, Bilbo- " for the first time in three days Thorin looked at you; his eyes dark and his voice drained from any kind of emotion. "Gather some food from the forest. Take anything as long as it is eatable and not poisonous." You nodded, ignoring the vicious stabs that shot through the organ that was beating against your ribs, and gestured to Bilbo to follow you.

The two of you passed through the company and ventured in the thick foggy forest, wading through the thick shrubberies that hooked onto your clothes like claws. Bilbo was right behind you, his hands fumbling a similar leather pouch that you had also clutched in one of your own.

"Okay, look for any kind of berries you can find and gather them, but don't eat from it in case they are venomous," you muttered softly and began to scan the bushes and the forest floor for any kinds of fruits or whatever was eatable. Bilbo kneeled and began to dig out some tuber, putting them in the leather pouch after dusting most of the dirt off. You started to pluck a dark blue berries that looked a lot like blue berries –but you didn't try any, despite that you stomach was growling- and put them in your own pouch that held also some a bright red kind of berry.

For quite some time, that could have been minutes or hours since you had lost all track of time, you and Bilbo were plucking, pulling and foraging until several pouches were stuffed to the brim and your backs began to hurt. You straightened your back, tying a knot in the pouch and stuffed in the pack with the rest that you later on threw over your shoulder.

"Well Bilbo, I think that we're done! We've gathered quite some.. some.." Your voice slowly died on you when you glanced up, expecting to see Bilbo. Instead you saw nothing.

The fog had been quite thick when the two of you had started, but now it completely surrounded you and you could barely even see a few feet in front of you. The trees had turned into scary, faint silhouettes that were much closer than your eyes told your brain. But that wasn't the part that made a strange sense of fear crawl close around your heart, no. It was the part that you couldn't see nor hear any sign of Bilbo.

"Bilbo? Bilbo!"

The echo of your own voice resonated through the trees, but there was only an eerie silence as a response. A involuntary shiver ran up and down your spine, causing your to clench your jaw and your eyes squint to make SOMETHING out of your surroundings. Then a thought hit you like a bitch slap across the face; what direction did you come from?

After several moments of twisting, turning, calling Bilbo's name and walking off in several directions you came to the conclusion that you were utterly and hopefully_ lost_.

"Shit."

You threw your pack on the ground and leaned against a tree –where you nearly had bumped into at first- and kept your keen eyes at your surroundings whilst your brains were working over-time about what the hell you should do right now.

"Well I can't stay here. Wait, I don't even know where HERE is! God damn it, where is the sun when you need it!"

Like the insane woman that you were, you started to talk to yourself and pace around the tree that you had now promoted as your 'beacon' and a landmark in this maze of fog and trees, complete with the mark of Durin (just in case). You were on edge to say the least, because sometimes you swore to see figures between the trees in the corner of your eyes, but each time you focused on them they disappeared. A dark feeling crept over you back and made you call for Bilbo once more.

"Bilbo! Where are you?! Hello?! Anyone?!"

Finally you received a response, but not the one that you desperately wanted to. See, the response was a growl, but the not the growl or moan of a sentient being like dwarf, elf or human, it was the growl of a beast. Several actually, and they were now surrounding you.

-

Bilbo looked up, his pouch heavy with the amount of berries and tuber he had gathered, and started to dust off his grimy hands, of where the dirt had crawled quite cosy underneath his nails, as he spoke, "Well! I think that's it, how about you Ayne?" The hobbit paused. "Ayne?"

The ginger curls on his head swung around dramatically as Bilbo flipped his head in several directions, trying to spot a crouching or standing figure that indicated of where the dwarrow woman was. After several moments he sighed and ran a hand through the same curls that were quite abused and disarranged by his head flipping and twirling. There seemed to be absolute no trace of her. The hobbit stood there for a moment or two, dumbfounded and quite scared actually for he was all alone.

'_Should I look for her? It's not the best idea because I could get lost. All those trees look alike,_' he thought whilst glancing around with a worried frown between his brows. '_Should I go back for help them? Will they believe me? Or perhaps they will think me of a coward for not searching her, but she could be in serious danger. Would I be able to fight it -whatever 'it' was- then?_'

Suddenly Bilbo slammed his grimy palm against his forehead, unknowingly leaving a giant black smear when he removed it. The hobbit sighed and threw his pack around his shoulders. ' _Bilbo Baggins, you fool! How could you think that way?! She is probably in danger and you need to act!_'

But before the little hobbit could act, the bone-chilling cry of a wolf tore through the trees froze him on the spot. In a panic he ran back in the direction of the camp that seemed like hours away even though his large hairy hobbit feet carried him as quickly and swiftly as they could! Imagine the looks of the dwarves faces when he suddenly had burst from the bushes; quite dirty with a few scratches here and there from some nasty thorn bushes he had to wade through and with such a rapid breathing he could hardly speak.

Nori immediately flung up and placed a hand on the hobbit's back, who was leaning with his arms quite heavy on his knees to catch his breath as he tried to talk. "Bilbo? Is something wrong? Where's Ayne?" Nori slowly began, but then silenced himself when Bilbo held up his hand trying to speak. Several of the dwarves had gotten up meanwhile.

"Ayne.. vanished.. wolves.." Bilbo began and started to cough a bit as he tried to press down the nauseous feeling that rose up from his gut.

"Wolves?" Bofur slowly stood up at Thorin's words, his hand immediately reaching for the mattock on his belt. "You didn't stay close to camp?" The prince growled and paced towards the poor, heavy breathing hobbit who had finally straightened himself and swallowed thickly a couple of times. Bilbo finally regained his breath.

"We did! But when I got up she was just _gone_. I had heard her foraging, moving and humming things between the bushes! It was.. it was like she had just vanished into thin air!" Bilbo cried out, his face pale and a feeling of despair threatened to overwhelm his brain if it wasn't for the second sky piercing howl ringing in his ears. The dwarves froze for just a short moment, their eyes fixated on the foggy and mysterious forest that stood before them.

"Wolves," Bofur slowly whispered, confirming the thoughts of the other twelve dwarves that were around him. His deep chocolate coloured eyes were slightly enlarged and his face had grown pale as he came to this sudden realization. Without another moment of hesitation the dwarf took a firm hold on his mattock and charged forward (not noticing the cries of his kin and brethren), storming straight into the dark forest.

"Bofur!" Thorin cursed and briskly unsheathed his blade. He pointed at Bombur and Ori and barked "Stay here! Guard the camp and be sharp! Everyone with me! Bilbo, lead us." His voice had softened slightly when talking to the hobbit and Bilbo could've sworn that he had seen despair flicker inside the steel eyes of the dwarven prince before him. The flicker of despair had vanished quickly enough though, for he too was keen on finding Ayne as quickly as possible and also unsheathed his sword before storming into the forest and through the bushes once more.

Meanwhile Bofur was quite some distance ahead of the rest as he cut out a path for himself through the thick undergrowth with his mattock. More howls were heard deeper inside the thick fog, but he had no time to register them or feel any kind of fear for it as he chopped of a branch that dared to stand in his way. He had to find her and quickly, before the wolves did!

You see; the wolves that dwelled at the edges of Mirkwood weren't normal wolves. They were larger than the average beast, but didn't have a master nor brutality like Wargs. They were more advanced in their way of thinking and almost as intelligent like you and me. They were quite the sentient beings, but did not harbour the ability to speak or converse in the Common Tongue (like the beasts of Beorn). They could communicate with each other by body language, howls, growls and snarls that sometimes Dwarves, the race of Men and even Elves (rarely) couldn't hear and thus they could even outsmart the most seasoned elven hunter.

"Ayne! Ayne!"

Bofur called for Ayne several times, his voice pitching here and there of exhaustion, and stopped in the middle of large open space. He had been running and shouting for her for the past half hour or so and was way past the point the Hobbit and the woman had been foraging, yet there was no single trace of her. Had he taken the wrong turn or something? Did he go in the wrong direction? Bofur's mind feverishly rattled on and on about what could have happened to her as he turned round and round, squinting his eyes at the thick fog to see _something_.

Then out of the blue, at his right, he could hear a scream and the thunderous sound of something storming through the bushes was almost ear-shattering (it was that quiet in the forest). Suddenly Ayne stumbled out of the bushes, her sword clutched in her hand and blood coating the metal. She ran straight at him and snatched his hand, pulling him along with her.

"Don't just stand there! RUN!" She screamed as kept Bofur's hand in an iron grip before he knew what was going on. A howl was heard right behind them and he was already turning to look back when Ayne gave his hand a sharp tuck.

"Don't look back! If you look back you are lost! Now, come on!"

Finally his own feet started to work and he started to run right behind her, dodging trees and jumping over bushes and fallen trees like the fires of hell itself were licking at his heels. He had never ran so hard in his life like he was now as adrenaline coursed thick through his veins and his heart thumping loudly in his ears.

The thickness of the trees and the bushes slowly began to dwindle and finally ended all the together when the terrain became more rockier and boulders started to appear from the thick fog. She ran straight for the boulders, her eyes shooting feverishly around her until she finally found what she was looking for; a narrow cave.

She jerked him with her when she somehow managed to squeeze herself through the very narrow passage of a small cave that apparently was the result of boulders falling on top of each other. Bofur could barely fit through the narrow passage, even if he tucked in his stomach. The stone grazed the brim of his hat when he squeezed himself through, step by step. He almost imagined a loud 'POP!' noise when it finally became wider and stumbled a bit.

Instantly the wolves appeared at the narrow passage, their yellow eyes gleaming with hunger and rage when they shoot glances inside and tried to fit themselves in the passage. Unfortunately for them, they were so large that they could never fit and thus they retreated out of sight, but not out of the area since Bofur could still hear them growling and snapping against each other.

The dwarf plumped down on his feet, catching his breath whilst leaning back on his hands. Ayne leaned against the wall of the incredibly dark cave that was at most 6 by 6 meter (or 21 feet if I am correct) if their estimations were correct.

A silence settled between him and the woman. Bofur swallowed and stared at the narrow opening of the cave, where the occasional wolf passed by and glared inside. He looked up back at Ayne, spotting a flicker of worry in her eyes when he spoke his thoughts.

"What now?"

"Now," Ayne began and unsheathed her sword before she sat down next to him. "Now, we wait."


	23. Chapter 23: Bofur

**Author's notes:**This chapter really pulled on my heartstrings and I almost shed some tears. Though it's very short, I think it's also very sweet and really closes the matter whether or not to pair Bofur with Ayne.

I think I am going to sob in a corner now, I'll be right back..

[1] Remember the ending of Chapter 14: Beorn?

EDIT: edited somegrammar issues that were bugging me for a while. Man, I am so ashamed of myself -..-"

* * *

_"There are things we don't want to happen, but have to accept. There are things we don't want to know, but have to learn. There are also people that we can't live without, but have to let go."_ ~ Author unknown

Chapter 23: Bofur

Awkward.

It was the best feeling you could describe when you and Bofur sat there in silence on the cold, hard en moist floor of your cave; listening to the sound of the wolves outside and waiting for them to leave or for the company to get you and the dwarf seated right next to you. Both of your breaths were visible in brief puffs of smoke that quickly vaporized in the air.

"Well, here we are then," you whispered softly. The urge to break the uncomfortable silence was just too much.

"Here we are indeed," Bofur muttered back, his body tense and his eyes deliberately focused on the exit.

"Look, Bofur-"

"Forget it, Ayne. It just happened. It happened and.. and I just.. I will just step aside and let it go."

The pain drenched Bofur's voice made you heart almost cry out for him as the knives of guild stabbed straight through it, effectively wounding your relationship with the once so merry dwarf. You placed a hand on his shoulder with a little hesitance, but he didn't shrug it away, so you squeezed it gently as you scooted closer a little bit.

"Bofur, I had no idea," you began but was cut off once again.

"No, you didn't and for that the only one to blame is myself. I am a fool and a coward; I should have acted sooner, or showed some signs that I was.." he paused for a moment. He tore his eyes away from the exited and suddenly developed a great interest in his feet. You couldn't do anything but wait until he finished his sentence.

"I was charmed by you," he finally said. "Not only by your looks but also by the you behind those fiery eyes of yours. The you that always accepted people like they really were and held no judgement over you, the you that refused to let anyone else bear the burdens that were her own, the you that always brought out the best of everyone and never gave up," he turned slight and glanced at you from the corner of his chocolate eyes.

"The you that always forgot to love or think about herself for just one moment, and had no idea how much it affected others to see her so broken."

His voice had tuned down to just an almost inaudible whisper as he practically confessed his feelings to you. Bofur ran a hand across his face and this mere gesture and those deep, touching words effectively pulled on your heartstrings. You removed your hand from his shoulder and sat close to him until your shoulders were pressed against each other. You hand gently took a hold of his own –that was mindlessly plucking at the fur of his boots- gently.

"I was always –still am- amazed of how positive you were –and are- in every dire situation. Somehow you could always make everyone laugh and keep their spirits up in the darkest of times, which is an admirable trait despite the fact that you treat it so casually," you whispered back. Your fingers played with Bofur's, your eyes focused on them when you laid your head on his right shoulder and then slowly closed his hand with your own and just held it tight.

"But when I looked passed your merry persona and saw an emotionally scrambled dwarf, I couldn't help myself but to admire you more. You have learned from your possible mistakes and experiences in the past that made you the dwarf that you are now. I couldn't help but to look up to you and feel comfortable and myself around you. Whenever I needed a moment to talk you were one of the few willing to listen to the ramblings of woman, who is suffering emotional breakdowns every now and then because of feminine hormones.[1]"

The small chuckle that resonated through Bofur's being made your smile just a little bit. You knew that you had put the bond between you and Bofur back on the right track again. He then gently pulled his right hand from your grasp, and instead of pushing you away he laid that hand across your shoulders and slightly pulled you against him.

"Why Thorin? Why not me? I can give you so _much_," he whispered softly, his voice slightly muffled in your hair. You started to gnaw on your bottom lip, briefly noticing that the wolves seemed to have left them where they were or just ventured a little further to lay out an ambush outside in case they considered to come out of their cave. In any case your gut didn't trust it yet, but did you even want to leave this cave?

There was a long pause from your side as you thought about his answer whilst your eyes were trained on both of your feet. Each pair was dangling to the side in a V-shape, causing your right foot and Bofur's left foot to knock against each other. You absently felt how Bofur's hand across your back moved to play with your hair as he waited patiently for your answer. His left hand had moved only to enclose warmly around your right hand.

"Because Thorin.." you hesitantly began, trying to find the correct words because there was no easy way to explain this. "Thorin has been in my life for a _long _time, despite the gap of at least fifty years I could never stop thinking about him; he had made such an impression on me. Thorin was –and still is- my image of hope, especially after Smaug. He was the foundation of my strength and I didn't care that he thought worse of me than vermin after the battle of Azanulbizar, because he would always be the beacon that I followed. Even if I had to follow him in the dark."

"Then this quest started and I needed him to trust me, like I trusted him. If he didn't I could never execute my job –being a healer- properly and we would all suffer," you paused for a moment. Thinking about that night at Rivendell when you had told him about your experiences with Azog.

"I had spoken privately to him at Rivendell, telling him my personal experiences with Azog partly because I needed to get it off my chest and partly as a sign that completely and utterly laid my fate in his hands. I gave him the chance not to believe me, but he did. He somehow did believe me and for once saw past all the hatred that he bore. Oh, the **hatred**.."

You needed to get to the point of your answer of why you had chosen Thorin and cared for him in a different way then you cared for Bofur. A deep breath refilled your lungs and your tongue swept over your cracked lips in an effort to wet them again and made the flesh supple once more.

"Finally, that hatred slowly dispersed and I received glimpses of the_ real _Thorin. The Thorin that was desperately trying to reclaim his kingdom, not only for his pride but also because that was also his home. It was the home that he longed for and finally appreciated when it was taken from him. One would say that the concept of 'home' was living with your loved ones and memories; Thorin doesn't really have all of that. Sure, he has Balin, Dwalin and his cousins, but it isn't the same."

"The two of us finally spoke once more at Beorn's house; I was broken and in despair and he showed me another side that I hadn't seen before; his soft and caring side behind all that stone and metal. A side that moved me deeply and seemed to spark something within the both of us when we had developed a mutual trust and deep respect for one another. We started to grow towards each other and bond especially at Thranduil's prison. How does one develop everything? And then.. we kissed," you finished finally.

A deep and shivering breath rolled over Bofur's lips when you shrugged his arm gently from your shoulders and turned to him. The dwarf was looking away from you, almost ashamed of the possible heart break that he was experiencing and some strangling noises come from the dwarf's being.

You placed free left hand on his cheek, your fingers playing for a moment with his crazy moustache before gently holding his jaw line and forcing him to meet your gaze. Your thumb gently stroked away the wetness that seemed to be coating his cheek.

"Bofur, look at me."

The caring tone in his voice almost made Bofur feel like he was still a youngster, sitting on the couch next to his dear mother and crying harrowingly over some broken favourite toy. Yet, he still obeyed your soft voice and looked up; his chocolate eyes meeting the infinite blue-grey depths of the beautiful woman before him.

"Don't even forget that you are precious to me; one of the most precious friends I have ever had. That also means that I have to let you go and wish you all the luck in the world, because you are one who certainly deserves it. Do you understand?" You looked deeply in his eyes watched how the tears dissolved and the spark of life came back to those chocolate orbs. His hand grasped the one that had cupped your cheek and he nodded.

"You are more precious to me than all the riches in the world, Ayne (including the 'long-term deposit'). For that I would grant you anything to make you happy, even if it is another dwarf. But can you just grant me one wish, before I let you go?"

Bofur's voice had softened to a husky whisper and his eyes seemed to flicker up and down your face. You nodded slowly, a smile tickling on your lips as you understood his intentions and was willing to grant that one final wish until the two of you would part as friends. "You may."

The dwarf didn't waste another second and leaned in. You felt the soft and furry brim of his hat graze your forehead when his lips downed upon yours. The kiss was tender, gently and incredibly respectful like you had expected it to be. The hairs of his moustache only slightly tickled your upper lip when he deepened it slightly before pulling back after a few chaste seconds; a big grin appearing on those same lips that had longed to kiss yours for such a long time.

"Thank you, for everything." He muttered and then pulled back completely and stood up, his hands clutching his mattock tightly. You followed his example and unsheathed your blood coat sword, a smile tucking your lips upwards and mirth twinkling in your eyes. The sound of shouts and battle cries mingled with the yelping, howling and growling of the wolves outside; the company was here to the rescue.

"Come on, lass! Let's give them a taste of some good dwarven metal!"

Bofur slapped on your shoulder with mirth coating his voice once more before his squeezed himself through the narrow opening, but with you on heels. Eventually you ran past him to the fight with your sword clutched in your hands and calling to him over your shoulder.

"The last one to the fight is going to wash everyone's undies!"


	24. Chapter 24: Laketown

**Author's notes:** Sorry for the late and crappy update. Life has been quite chaotic lately and I had absolutely no idea how I was going to describe Laketown. I wanted something completely different than in the book (because that's just makes no sense in my opinion) and I had a hard time to figure it out.

I also apologize for the useless fluff. And I figured that Thorin is becoming quite anxious about Erebor (hence the weirdness blahblahblah) since it's almost within reach. I expect to write some angst the following chapters.

Question: should I write a lemon chapter between Thorin and Ayne?

[1] I figured that Thorin would be around 200 when the Hobbit begins. So that's why I made her around 190.

* * *

Chapter 24: Laketown

Several days later, the company was quite at ease and had quite the abundance of meat (much to Dwalin's joy) and the fog had finally dispersed a little, granting some visibility. The company halted when Kili suddenly pointed and gasped "Look!". Out in the distance the faint contours of a bridge and a guard post appeared. The dwarves shared look with each other, was this a friendly or hostile setting?

"What is a bridge and a guard post doing here," Balin muttered with a sceptic voice.

"Should we go ask for directions?" Ori hesitantly offered, but was silenced by Dori with a grumpy huff and a half-hearted laugh.

"Ask for directions? Sure, why don't we offer us to the enemy on dinner plates!"

"But we don't know if they are enemies. Ori is right, we should ask for directions or at least a place to rest and restock," the wise words of Bilbo resonated through your ears. You nodded in agreement and looked around the rest of the group, who seemed incredibly sceptic by the plan.

"Bilbo is right. We have no idea where we are, which direction we are walking in and what's better than to ask for directions?" You inquired and rested a hand on your hip. There still was some disagreeing muttering here and there, which made you roll your eyes and turn around with Bilbo's arm hooked within your own.

"Come, Mr. Baggings. Let's ask those kind bridge guards where we are." You strode away with the sputtering hobbit that half-heartedly tried to wrangle himself out of your grasp, alas with no success. You heard Thorin grunt behind you and soon the prince fell in your stride beside you. A smile tickled on your face, you knew that he would go along. Also, when Thorin followed you, the rest just copied.

"Halt! Who's there?! Identify yourselves!"

The guards were immediately alarmed when they caught sight of you, a hobbit and Thorin; all at the height of their waist/chest. You stepped forward, having let go of Bilbo and smiled at them before talking with a diplomatic and kind voice; "We are dwarves obviously, if you haven't guessed that by our height. Also, we are lost and are asking for some of your hospitality. We are in desperate need for a meal and a bed for the time being."

Thorin grunted beside you, wanting to state who he was and what noble goal they were pursuing, but a side way glance shot at him made the prince held his tongue. The rest of the company behind you remained silent.

Bilbo could see confusion in the eyes of the humans when they shared some glances. You shifted your posture a bit, but kept smiling at the guard in a curious way that seemed to disarm them emotionally. The one that had been yelling at them relaxed slowly and remove his hand from the hilt of his sword and nodded, "Okay, we believe you."

"Thank you, sir. You are most kind," you said with a heart-warming voice and nodded at him respectively. The guard pointed at the bridge, where the vague outlines and some lights indicated that there was a city there.

"You are at Laketown and we will grant you the hospitality you seek. Forgive us, milady, but it is rare to see dwarves in these regions after Smaug the Terrible." The guard inclined his head towards you and earned a small chuckle rolling from your lips.

Thorin narrowed his eyes. '_Laketown?_' he thought.

"I did suspect we are one of the firsts and more will follow. Keep in mind that the short-folk is coming home again and that we aren't evil, merely home-sick. Thank you," you muttered when the company passed the guards and with quite the pride growing in your chest. You glanced to Thorin from the corner of your eyes, who just stared ahead of himself with his brows furrowed and his lips pressed together. Apparently, women were more useful than he had imagined.

The moment you and the company had set foot on Laketown, you felt a bit queasy. The city was known for being built in the river, but on top of wooden poles to keep the water at bay and their feet dry. The citizens of Laketown were very good fishermen, lumberjacks and craftsmen; for they needed boats and able men and women to add any additional housings.

They were a sturdy and somewhat reserved folk; the humans that lived here. They had unique ties with the Elves of Mirkwood -especially with Thranduil- and traded a huge amount of crafts, food and knowledge with each other. This was the only reason that Thorin had a strong dislike of Laketown, judging by the way his brows were pressed together and his eyes glared at every inhabitant that they passed whilst they were looking for an inn.

One thing that certainly amazed you –for it has been awhile since you visited a human city- is that everything was _huge_. Every door, every window, every lantern and towered at least 2 feet above your head, and you weren't the only one to think so! Ori was hastily scribbling away in one of his thick tomes that he carried with him, whilst the rest just gasped and looked around them. Somehow all this grandness reminded Thorin vaguely of the giant halls of Erebor.

A sharp pain shot through the prince's heart. Then, finally, the warm light of the inns lantern warmed the dwarves' faces as its sign moved with the light caress of a small breeze.

"The Swirling Maelstrom," Bilbo read out loud. Bofur snorted and stopped next to the hobbit.

"Fitting, no? Well, I could use a good drink." His words were beckoned by several loud and deep 'AYE!' from his kin as well as the other dwarves. The company was obviously aching for some relaxation and the Avvar seemed to be willing to grant it for when you pushed open the heavy door the merry sound of music drifted in your ears, combined with merry laughter that made a grin tuck on your lips.

Thorin followed closely and some of the humans, that were first laughing and chattering, fell silent as they took their time to observe your kind. Once again, it appeared that dwarves had almost entirely left these regions -there were even less dwarf-women for they originally stayed most of their days underground instead of travelling, much less fighting- and that it was a welcome sight for the villagers; for they immediately beckoned to the company to come in, sit down and have a pint or two.

There must be some reason why there were suddenly dwarves in their pub, right?!

After arranging rooms –that made your pouch of gold weigh a lot less than before- you sat down on a tiny whiny over-sized chair with a large muck of ale in your hands. You sat there alone for a while, watching and smiling of how the dwarves –mainly Bofur- told their befriended patrons, with great imagination and large gestures, of how they fought of spiders, stone-giants, goblins and tamed the wild river in their barrels! It was perhaps wise not to tell everyone that they had escaped Thranduil's imprisonment, so they kept that little fact out of the story.

You were so engulfed by the theatrical and dramatic performances of Bilbo–who played a spider against his will- and Kili –who was the indomitable hero of the story obviously- that you hadn't noticed someone sitting down left of you, with the table between you and that someone.

"I would never have thought to meet such a lovely dwarf as yourself," the patron said, catching your attention for a brief moment before you took a swig of your ale (that was surprisingly good!) and took your time to look at him. It was a middle-aged man, not explicitly handsome or interesting in any kind of way. You could also spot some haziness swirl behind his green eyes, thus you turned your head away and focused on the dramatic play before you muttering a "Not interested."

The man quickly stood up and promptly sat down in a chair right of you, where there was no table between the two of you and he had free reach. The strong smell of alcohol and sour sweat wafted up your nostrils and made your nose twitch a bit. The pint that the man was holding, tilted a bit when he leaned in some more, the contents spilling over his pants but he was so drunk that he never noticed.

"Ah, come on! You are just playing hard to get! To tell you the truth, I have always wanted to fuck a dwarf.. hard." His attempt to be suave and husky failed miserably for his pint was now completely empty and his trousers were drenched in ale. You felt one of his hands touch your ear and hair when he leaned against his shoulder, your lips pulled for a short second in grim line before you tucked the corners in a charming way.

"Perhaps you might, if you are old enough," you mused and decided to play along.

"Old enough?! Bah! I'm meeting my fortieth winter!" His eyebrows rose slightly when you started to laugh, almost hysterically before standing up and shrugging his arms from your shoulders.

"You're forty? You are just a babe! I happen to be one-hundred-and-ninety-one![1]" You laughed and gave the man a wink. "Nice try, sweetie. Go find your luck with some whores! Oh wait, you are too ugly for that."

The teasing tone in your voice completely sounded like mockery in the ears of the drunkard, for he flew up from the chair with anger flashing through his hazy eyes as he pointed at you with his empty pint, still clutched in his hand. The chair had screeched slightly for that sudden movement, causing a few patrons to look and see what was going on. The company quickly caught wind of the sudden change of attention and the theatrical display of their adventures together slowly seized.

"Are you saying," the man sputtered with a trembling pint that almost touched your forehead. "Are you saying that I am even scum to whores?" He finally managed to blurt out with reddened cheeks of anger and booze. A mocking smile crept its way on your lips; you had him exactly how you wanted.

"And what if I did say that? Would you hit me? Come on, you wouldn't hit a woman, now would you?" There was a small pause between you and the man in front of you, who was considerably a lot taller than you. Then, not entirely out of the blue, he swung his pint right at you. You had foreseen this and merely took a step back, feeling the wind of the object whizz past your nose. That was your signal.

With lightening reflexes you tore the pint of his hand, grabbed his arm and tucked the man towards you and out of balance. It just took another tuck, a swipe of your feet and a clever push to throw the man on the floor on his stomach. You immediately took your opportunity to sit down on top of the squirming man, who seized squirming quite quickly when he noticed that he was bested by a mere female dwarf.

"You know," you muttered whilst giving the man's temple a flick of your fingers to gain his attention. "There are more ways to find happiness, do not find it in the bottom of pint or with a random woman, but with your friends and family. Develop it and make it your own, remember that." With those words said, you stood up and watched the man silently crawl back on his feet and leave the pub, muttering incoherent words that only made sense to himself.

"Why did you do that?" Bilbo whispered, coming up at you when the merry atmosphere had returned back to the patrons and dwarves; who weren't bothering by asking what happened because they saw what happened and that was enough. You hummed at the hobbit, a bit distracted for your eyes had found Thorin sitting at a table with Balin and talking softly to each other.

"Hmn, what? Do what, Bilbo?"

Bilbo rubbed his eyes at your innocence and gestured to the empty chair and the spot on the ground where the man had been lying mere minutes ago. "Do that. Provoke the man, throw him on the floor, etcetera."

It was quite clear to the tone of his voice that he wasn't very happy with you doing that and as an answer you could only shrug and vaguely say; "He needed it. He was spiralling down in a pit and sometimes people need something to jar them back to the real world, and in this case a woman throwing that man on the ground.

The rest of the night had ventured quite uneventful and slowly the amount of patrons in the pub dwindled considerably until the dwarves and a handful of shady figures were left. Bilbo, Ori, Nori and Bombur had already gone to bed as the rest were enjoying their pipes or –in your case- revelling in the sweet smell of Old Toby's, that Gandalf had given to them. Some conversed in soft and hushed voice, but others remained silent when the waitresses cleaned the tables and mopped the floors.

"I am going to catch a fresh nose, I'll be right back," you announced, stood up and went for the front door. The moment you stepped outside your hazy and ale fogged head immediately cleared. You took a deep breath, enjoying how your lungs filled themselves with sweet oxygen. Your senses were faintly aware that Thorin seemed to have followed you and leaned against the doorframe behind you, whilst the light of the lantern -that hung above the two of you- threw sharp shadows across his face.

"It seems that everything is alright between you and Bofur," his baritone voice spoke. The sound pleasantly drifted into your ears as you stood there, looking ahead and enjoying the lights of the lanterns that were a bit dimmed because of the fog. You nodded and turned to face the prince, your back against the cold metal of the lantern.

"It is. Everything is sorted out and the company seemed to have made their peace." You paused for a moment as you took your time to look deeply in the twinkling grey eyes of Thorin. Somehow there hung quite a bit uncomfortable silence between the two of you. The dwarf pushed himself from the doorframe and took a large step in your direction, almost immediately closing the distance between the two of you.

Thorin's face was unreadable when his fingers reached up and traced the soft skin of your cheek, before pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ears. Your eyes traced over the scar of his brow and the one over the bridge of his nose, to the outlines of his sharp nose, short black beard and his strong lips.

The world seemed to fall away around you once more, when Thorin leaned in and caught your lips with his own in a tender kiss that made you stomach soar with butterflies. This time you were prepared and kissed him back instantly whilst your fingers curled around fur of his leather coat. The smell of oak, fire and a faint hint of sweat wafted up in your nostrils and made you smile inside. It was like you remembered; Thorin's smell.

Before you could do any attempt to deepen it, Thorin pulled back and pressed his forehead against yours; his black manes, streaked with silver, mingling with your own in a strong contrast. A shivering breath fanned against your lips that ached to be kissed again, and again, and again. But you restrained yourself and listened silently to the breathing of the prince and the thick beating of your own heart in your ears.

His eyes contained all the storms of the world combined, yet he did not share it, but it made you wonder if this was about Erebor or something else. Perhaps he thought that he had lost you to the Toymaker, or was it because of something that could might happen in the future? You felt the plaguing turmoil of his secret thoughts by the way his hands cupped your face and his voice whispered such dark promises at you that you dared not to repeat it.

His lips pressed against yours once more, but this time the kiss was more demanding and mind blowing that the first one. This kiss made you arch up against his with your fingers weaving into his hair and your nails racking the skin of his skull. One of his arms latched around your waist, pressing your body against his in such a dominant matter that made the feminine side of you moan in delight.

How you ended up against the wall of the inn with your legs hooked around Thorin's hips you had no idea. What you did know is that it deemed to be quite _pleasurable_, before Dwalin came up with the incredible idea to disturb you two –with a grin from ear to ear- and announce that they were going to bed.

You watched Thorin follow Dwalin inside, but not without throwing a dark gaze in your direction that launched your libido sky high. You stood there for a moment, alone and with the tips of your fingers pressed against your slightly swollen lips. Something bugged you a bit, but you couldn't quite place your finger on it.

"Oh well, probably nothing."

You laughed to yourself and also went inside, your mind and body longing for sleep and thus not noticing the prying eyes in the fog, that had been watching all the time.


	25. Chapter 25: Bard

**Author's notes:** I imagined Bard to be something like the character Jack Sparrow in PotC but not too loony and more.. slippery. I obviously haven't read his introduction of the book yet, so forgive me if he is too OOC. His looks are based by the actor that is going to portray from who I have forgotten the name. Forgive me.

Pssth! Did you guys also know that Richard Armitage probably wrote a fanfic about the relationship of Thror and Thorin? I am totally spying the web right now :ninja:

Also, I realize that we are slowly creeping towards the end. One that I dread and.. o dear :(

PS. sorry for the short chapter. But I really wanted to introduce him. Even though it's a bit weird.

* * *

Chapter 25: Bard

The dwarves and Bilbo had slept quite peacefully, despite the circumstances, except for one; Thorin. Who was twisting and turning, throwing the covers of his bed around, but seemed to failing in any way to make himself comfortable and succumb to sleep. Thus, the prince crawled out of his bed, got dressed and eventually took a seat in the pub downstairs with a pipe in his hands and his elbows leaning on the table.

The embers of the pipe lit up his dark, contemplative eyes with each time his lips drew at the mouthpiece. Smoke swirled around the prince in strange shapes and forms, making him even more mysterious than he already was. Then, when the wooden floor creaked in the dark corner on his left, Thorin's eyes flicked to the side for a moment and then continued to resume their glare at the darkness.

"I know you are there, human." His deep voice finally cut through the air in a few silent moments.

To the right a figure appeared, tall and lean. A cloak was draped over the man's shoulders but did not hide his face that was handsome, defined and framed with long dark curls. With a few long and powerful strides the man was at Thorin's table and took a seat to his right. He sat down, graceful for a human and leaned back in a casual non-caring matter.

"You have keen senses, for a dwarf," the man's voice muttered in almost a husky tone. "I am surprised, really." His lips quirked upwards in a broad grin, showing a row of strong and white teeth as his dark brown eyes twinkled in the faint light of the lanterns that shone through the murky windows of the pub; lighting the room very dimly, but enough for their eyes to maintain their vision.

"Why have you been watching us?"

Finally the grey eyes of Thorin settled on the man next to him. The prince disliked the man almost immediately; he was too sleek, too cunning for his liking. He made him on edge and aching for his blade in his hands. He distrusted him to say the least and probably for good reasons.

The male shrugged and waved away some of the smoke -from Thorin's pipe- that was slowly curling in strange figures in the air between them and drifting in his face. Thorin judged him as freelancer, a man without bounds and do as he pleases, but also a man with contacts. Thorin wasn't surprised by his answer, for his judgement was always correct (in Thorin's own opinion) and the human seemed to be evasive, but his brown eyes held knowledge that he apparently refused to speak of.

"Because I have found my interest being peeked, obviously. For what other reasons would I watch you dwarves? I have been following you the moment you had escaped the barrels of Thranduil and wandered aimlessly at the edge of Mirkwood." The human chuckled softly as a flash of some undefined emotion crossed Thorin's grey eyes in a moment of shock.

"I know about your imprisonment, but also about your quest. Do not worry, the elves will not find you for all they know is that you and the rest of your little company are still wandering around in Mirkwood, lost and hungry."

Thorin's hand, that held his pipe, tensed almost visibly as the prince let the words of the human sink in. They have been followed by this man for all this time? How come they could have never noticed him before? Thorin vaguely recalled sounds and rustling of bushes each night they camped, but he –and the others- just figured that it was the wind or forest animals. The prince glanced up, his eyes filled with fury, but his voice was so calm that the human quirked up and eyebrow.

"I distrust the words that roll out of your mouth, human. Do you have any proof or assurance that the Elves won't be standing at our beds by dawn? Why help us in the first place? What is your name?"

The human chuckled and motioned to Thorin to slow down a bit. "So many questions, Thorin Oakenshield, but we have so little time. I will keep this short and simple; I know of your quest. Some suspect it and others deem it rubbish, but I know why you are here. You are here for Smaug, right?"

He didn't wait for Thorin's reply and continued on talking. Meanwhile the male had stood up and started to pace around, gesturing wildly whilst he answered the questions that the prince had asked him. Almost with a smug smile on his face whilst his eyes twinkled with amusement and the power that he seemingly held over the dwarf with the thing he knew about them. It was something that Thorin disliked greatly.

"My name is Bard and know that Smaug is still alive. He hasn't left but was never seen for the past sixty years. That is enough for people to think that he was a mere legend, a mere story, and that he isn't real. I do. And I believe that your hobbit Bilbo Baggings can trick him with the right push in the back. I also believe that you have made a good choice to let Ayne accompany you on the journey. She is quite the moral reminder of everyone and will have an even greater role to play later on, of that I am sure."

The man called Bard spoke quite hastily and was pacing up and down with his hands finally clasped behind his back, the grotesque gesturing irritated Thorin a bit. He took a few breaths before continuing; "If I get to the point of my rambling let's say that I believe your cause and I want to say that you have my support and if you ever need help; call." he bowed at the prince.

For a moment it was silent between the two sentient beings in the dark pub. Thorin then got up after he had extinguished his pipe and turned around to leave this _lunatic_ to his own rambling. His heavy boots made the wooden floor creak with each step he took. "I won't need your help," the prince said without looking back. Bard took no action to stop the prince but when he reached the staircases he said something that made Thorin halt in his tracks and his grey eyes to widen.

"You love her, a lot. I know you do because it shows in your eyes every time you look at her. You love her as much as you love Erebor, but be careful that you love for the latter spirals down in an obsession, Thorin Oakenshield. I have also seen _that_ lurking in your eyes. You are warned."

With those words Thorin could hear Bard's footsteps move to the door. It was followed by the sound of a door opening, a faint gush of cold air and the creaking sound of a door closing. Thorin was alone now, his back turned to the dark pub and his hand clenched around the rail of the staircase. His heart was thumping thickly against the prince's chest as an almost unfamiliar feeling constricted around that beating organ and made his palms grow clammy and his forehead sweaty.

Thorin shrugged it off, his mind denying Bard's words that now resonated again and again in his ears as he made his way up the creaking staircase as quietly as possible. He looked up when a door on the dark hallway opened and a sleepy you leaned against the doorframe, your hair ruffled and your hands rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"What's wrong? Why are you up?" You drawled with a thick voice and blinked a few times to focus on the dark silhouette of Thorin that had halted at the top of the staircase.

"Nothing, go back to bed," Thorin whispered reassuringly, stepping closer to give you a peck on your forehead and wrapped his arms around you. As he took in the scent of your hair in that embrace –that you happily welcomed by wrapped your arms around his waist and snuggled your face in the crook of his neck- his eyes glanced in your room and to your window. He would never drop you for some stupid obsession. Never.

Thorin could never be so wrong.


	26. Chapter 26: Dawn

**Author's Notes: **I decided not to write a lemon chapter. Why? Because one of my brothers is also reading  
this fanfiction and that would just be too.. awkward :/ So I decided to give you guys some snippets to feed your imagination! Sorry! Don't hit me! It's such crap I'm gonna cry! ;_;

::I wish I could post some GIF/links here. Darn you FFnet!::

Stay tuned! Next chapter is going to arrive around Tuesday/Wednesday because I have no idea what to write next!

* * *

Chapter 26: Dawn

The very next day you woke up with the dim light of the upcoming sun shining through the narrow opening of your curtains and a pleasant satisfied feeling settled in your gut. Steady but slowly, your senses started to return to your hazed mind and so did your memories of the night before. The faint smell of oak and sweat drifted into your nostrils and when you turned to your other side, your eyes grazed the features a familiar prince who was fast asleep.

Thorin was laying on his back, his black manes ruffled and surrounding his head like a dark halo. With your twisting and turning, his arm around your waist had fallen off, but he had not woken because of that. Gently you sat up, allowing the sheets to slid of the naked skin of your shoulders and pool at your hips.

A fluster dusted your cheeks when one of your hands reached out and the tips of your fingers ghosted over the skin of his chest that was covered in thin black fur and coated his muscles in a light layer. Thorin had the muscles of a seasoned warrior, with the occasional scar here and there, that bulged slightly with each intake of breath he took. It were the same muscles that your breasts had been squished against just mere hours ago.

Your remembered how his strong back and thigh muscles propelled you to new heights that you had never experienced before, again, and again. How his voice whispered things in your ear that made you feel so incredibly hot that it made you even fluster now, thinking back at it. You shuddered at those delicious memories and lied back down again, letting your eyes drink in the sleeping Thorin next to you whilst one of your hands gently weaved itself in his thick black hair.

The moment he had embraced you that night, you had felt that something was wrong. He never told you what when his hands had roamed over your body, wrinkling and sliding under your night attire and setting your skin alight. The passion had been unbelievable that night, but it was also coated by a thin sheen of desperation. As if he solely wanted to focus his attention upon you –or at least something else- whilst horrible demons wanted to claim his thoughts. Did he have sex with you just to think of something else or to release some stress? You hoped it was neither, but had enjoyed it nonetheless.

You gnawed at your bottom lip at this troublesome thought. After a while you stood up, letting the blankets glide of your body when you stood up and your bare feet guided you to the window. You peered outside through the small opening of the curtains and watched how the streets below your window started to wake up as the sky coloured from blueish purple to a yellowy orange.

People started to roam the streets in no time, setting up their stalls to sell their goods to those who passed them by. Children giggled, laughed and played between the stalls, earning the occasional shout when they almost knocked something over, but they ignored it and kept chasing each other and eventually ran out of view.

"Ayne."

The rumbling of a deep voice behind, almost startled you. You turned, letting the curtains slip out of your fingers and fall back in place. Thorin's grey eyes immediately captured yours when you dared to look at him; they were incredibly intense, but mysterious, once again. Making questions appear on the back of your tongue that you dared not to ask and were swallowed down for the thousandth time.

Thorin motioned for you to come, so you did. You stepped back in the bed at the spot that you had left mere moments ago and snuggled against the dwarrow prince. His large calloused hands ran through your short blond locks in a rhythmic fashion when you laid with your cheek on his chest and the tips of your fingers played with the outlines of his muscles. You felt that he wanted to say something, but couldn't. So you waited, and waited, until the sun was now fully up and shining in your bedroom.

You decided to take the matter in your own hands.

"Thorin, I love you. You know that right?" You dared to whisper to him, breaking the silence that had been looming over the two of you. For a moment, you swore that his breathing had stopped for a mere second as you said it, but then resumed itself micro-second later. His fingers kept coursing through the locks of your hair as Thorin's baritone voice uttered a small "Yes.".

"I know that something is troubling you, I feel it," you immediately said for you knew Thorin well enough that he would deny it. "You don't have to tell me, but I want you to know that I am here for you if you ever need me. Alright?"

You turned and looked up at the prince from the position of his chest, with your legs strangled with each other. You reached up and cupped the sides of his face, your fingers trailing the scar over his nose and the one above his brow that had healed actually quite nasty, but didn't deform his gorgeous face. The tips of your digits slowly slid down over his straight nose and eventually touched his lips. Thorin nodded and you smiled, letting your hands slide down his face and rest on his collarbones.

Instantly he pulled your closer -savouring the smell of flowers that you seem to always wear no matter how battered or sweaty you were- and pressed his lips hard and needy against your own. You faintly recalled the bedroom door being opened and quickly closed with something like "Ayn- Oh, never mind.". It did not disturb you two in the least.

A few hours later you were refreshed, well-fed, clean, dressed and waiting outside for Bilbo with the rest of the dwarves. Bifur was grunting, pointing at the sun and cursing in Khuzdul that the hobbit was late and he was right. The sun was already starting to reach its highest peak and they were starting to gain attention from the local villagers; the sight of fourteen dwarves was one they weren't accustomed to. Finally the door of the tavern opened and Bilbo came stumbling outside, his bulging pack weighing heavy on his tiny shoulders.

"I still don't see why I had to pay for everything!" The hobbit grumbled when the company crossed the bridge of Laketown –you tipped an invisible hat to the guards with a grin- Bofur shrugged at his answer.

"Because you were the one with most of the gold? We haven't reclaimed Erebor yet, so we are a poor as a church mouse," the dwarf said with a shrug of his shoulders. And thus the company resumed their journey. All were eager and aching to get it over with and that showed in the way they animatedly talked with each other with their eyes twinkling with mirth. But there was something brewing underneath the surface, Bilbo could feel it and see it in yours and Thorin's eyes.

It made him worry what was going to come.

The following days proved to be quite uneventful, but the spirits of the dwarves slowly dispersed into a thin hum. There was no song or tale told those days as you, Bilbo and the company strode on. Three days after they had left Laketown, they met a caravan who gave them supplies and pony's, but dared not to follow them towards the mountains under the pretext of that 'they dared not to dwell near until the songs turned into truth'.

Fall had passed them in a blink of an eye and the sudden biting cold announced the arrival of winter. It made the mood of the company even more depressed, as the realization that they journey was coming to an end downed upon them. The luscious forest-like landscape slowly made way for naked and dead trees and dead plains stretching out as far as the eye could see. Here and there ruins of settlements stuck out of the ground, eaten away by time and making our Bilbo shudder at the eeriness that it portrayed.

"The fury of Smaug," Balin explained to the ones that bore that silent question on their tongues, but did not ask. "The city of dale is of no better shape." The old dwarf jumped off his pony as the company took refuge in one of these ruins in the hope to escape the sharp wind and biting cold that rushed across the plains. You were grateful that the weather spirits hadn't decided to let it snow, for the fire that Gloin had made was quite welcome.

A nice and hot meal did something good to the spirits of the dwarves and Bofur even dared to strike a tune with his flute that was quite merry and even made Dwalin pull out his violin, causing Bilbo to raise an eyebrow for he had not expected that of the tattooed dwarf.

The hobbit was seated next to you, his back against one of the ruin walls and spooning the warm stew in his mouth, careful not to burn himself. Your eyes were silently watching Thorin, Fili and Kili converse as the prince told his nephews of how the city of Dale has formed and of the heroes it had spawned. They absorbed every word of him like a sponge absorbed water.

"So, I have heard that you and Thorin.." Bilbo awkwardly began and fiddled with the steaming bowl of his hands. He wasn't sure what to do.

You looked at him and smiled briefly, making the hobbit fluster a little bit at your honesty. "Yes, we are. If that answers your question. Do you also want to know of what position we are fond off? It must be that one where you bend backwards and entangle yourself with-"

Bilbo's cheeks turned from a soft pink into a bright red as he almost choked on his own saliva when he hastily held up one hand and gasped "N-no! For god's sake! I- **NO**!"

You laughed. It was joyful and incredibly intoxicating for some of the dwarves who's ears had picked up your talking. Bilbo felt the redness spread over his cheeks, down his neck and even coating his slightly pointed ears. Nonetheless the corners of his mouth tucked upwards just a bit when you nudged him slightly and your hands ruffled his hair.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist Mr. Baggings, I am merely jesting." The words that rolled over your soft lips reassured the hobbit a bit. It was of no secret now that Thorin and you were quite romantically involved –especially after that night- and though it was awkward, it was accepted. None teased the two of you about it and some claimed that they had even seen it coming. You decided it was just a twist of fate and events that brought the two of you closer together.

You watched that night how Thorin's eyes grew distant each time he looked ahead in that vast darkness of the night; the Lonely Mountain, far in the distance, being partly lit by the moon only to grow dark again when clouds decided to hide the orb of silver from view. He grew more and more distant from the group and said nothing when you embraced him, but merely returned the gestures.

The next day, the plains seemed to become less flat and boulders stuck out of the ground like giant grey teeth as the mountain seemed to venture closer and closer. You could see with each passing day that the dwarves grew more anxious and more on edge at night. Finally the company reached the remaining ruins of the city of Dale and reached the foot of the mountain.

Thorin motioned for everyone to stop and Bilbo couldn't even fathom what he was seeing. They had reached the very foot of the mountain, that loomed over them with snow adorning its kilometres high peak like a crown. You felt pride swell in your heart and thanked Durin with fleeting whispers coming from your lips. Balin stopped next to you, his eyes twinkling and a smile grown on his lips when he spoke.

"Erebor. We've made it."

"Smaug," Thorin seethed, his grey eyes focused upon the mountain with hate. "Your days are numbered."

"**Aye**!"


	27. Chapter 27: Erebor

**Author's Notes: **Finally a chapter I am happy with! I have been dreading the past chapters and now it finally becomes more interesting for we are slowly coming to an end that I have already made up, but not going to tell! :3

I have also been thinking of the future fanfiction I am going to write. I am doubting between BBC's Robin Hood (Guy of Gisborne, yummy 3) or Spooks with Lucas North. But that means that I have to watch Spooks first, or rewatch Robin Hood for it has been quite some time since I watched it!

What do you guys think?

* * *

Chapter 27: Erebor

Despite the fact that the dwarves had actually reached Erebor, their journey wasn't over yet. They still had to find the secret entrance to the mountain and hope that they arrived on the right place at the right time. Which was quite difficult, considering that the entrance was indeed secret and Erebor held many crevices and caves that led to nothing.

It was a chance million to one –or even smaller- that the company would find the door, but that didn't stop them from trying even if they had to do the most acrobatic manoeuvres to get to the crevices and caves. Hence the reason that you were now clinging desperately to the rockface with a rope around your waist, and was shuffling along a thin ridge that was almost too narrow for your feet to find any grip.

Your heart was pulsating thickly in your ears and your breathing was ragged because of the immense climb you were –more or less- forced to do. Bilbo had an enormous fear of heights and you were the thinnest and most agile of the company side from the hobbit, so it was up to you to attach a safety line so that the rest of the dwarves could also climb up.

_'Happy me,'_ you thought a bit seething when your left foot found some grip on a small ridge and pulled yourself up, pressing your chest against the rockface in the meantime.

Sweat trickled down the side of your face when you heard someone call at you from below and shot a look down over your shoulder. Thank Durin that you weren't afraid of heights, for the dwarves were now almost mere pinpoints below you.

-

"Ayne! The rope is almost ending! Can you find a ridge!?" Dori shouted as hard as he could, his voice echoing between the many ridges, peaks and ravines of the mountain.

Thorin looked up at the small ant –that was Ayne- that was hugging the stone for her dear life. She shouted something back, but he didn't quite hear it because of the awful winds that suddenly decided to sweep in his face and let her voice to be carried away, instead of guiding it in his ears. Then she did something that made his heart sink in his feet.

"Ayne!" Thorin roared.

Right at that moment, the woman swung herself from her spot to another ridge, but it seemed that her hands couldn't find any grip! She slid down the steep rockface, her hands and feet flailing around her as she desperately tried to hold on to _something_. Debris and loose rocks fell down as she fell, causing the dwarves to seek some kind of cover or dodge the rubble with lightning speed reflexes.

Suddenly she stopped and even though she was at least 50meters up the mountain, Bilbo could hear her ragged breathing. Bofur wiped the sweat from his brow when everyone watched how Ayne slowly and carefully regained her footing and shouted "I'm fine! I just slipped!" at them.

"Come one, Ayne. You can do it," Ori mumbled encouraging. His voice was muffled by the gloved fist he was pressing against his mouth.

Kili squinted his eyes and pointed up. "There! She is going for that ridge! Come on, woman. Don't lose your grip."

Thorin's stomach turned and twisted as he watched Ayne's feet or hands slip several times because of the slippery rocks, but she regained her grip time and time again. Finally –after what felt like an eternity- the woman disappeared out of sight as crawled upon a ridge. For a moment the company saw or heard nothing from Ayne until Dori felt the robe tighten beneath his hands and her head appeared from over the ridge where she had crawled onto.

"The rope is secured! Come on up!"

Slowly, one by one, the dwarves started to climb up by holding the rope and 'walk' upon the rocks after they had secured that the ponies would have enough to eat for a day and were out of sight for any kind of predators. Even though Bilbo had an enormous fear of heights, he somehow managed to crawl over the edge and lie down on the hard rocks with a loud of encouraging shouts and cheers from the dwarves that had already reached the top. Nori patted him encouragingly on the back, but now they had a new problem on their hands; Bombur.

"No! I'm not going up that rope! I think I'll just stay here with the ponies, alone," the fat dwarf cried. His ginger coloured moustache moving along with his lips. His cousin Bifur, who was standing beside the dwarf, growled something in Khuzdul and pointed upwards after giving Bombur a slight nudge.

"But it such a thin rope! It won't be able to carry me!" Bombur sputtered, trying to find any kind of argument that worked in his favour. Luckily for him this wasn't the case and he safely reached the small platform –albeit a bit pale- where you and the rest of the dwarves had gathered. Bifur soon followed his cousin and now the company was complete.

"What now? We can't be stuck on this god awful ledge forever," Gloin growled as he pulled up his shoulders and snuggled closer in his coat. An icy wind had picked up and was toying with their hair and beards, trying to get some grip on them, but merely grazed their faces instead. Bilbo could see Ayne grin and pointed at a small and narrow path at the left.

"When you snails were climbing up, I've spotted a path. It leads up, for how far I do not know, but it's quite dangerous so stick together!"

Thorin watched how Ayne took the lead that he followed. Something kept nagging about him though, as the company shuffled on the small path with their backs pressed against the rockface and keeping a close eye on where they put their feet. The path was slippery and not very maintained (duh, which lunatic would ever try and climb up the mountain? ) thus making their little stroll in the afternoon a little harder than expected. On the occasion one would slip, but none fell –thank the Avvar- into the depths below as the company climbed higher and higher up the mountain.

Finally the path led to a small and narrow platform where the fourteen members of the company barely fitted upon. Balin noticed the smoothest wall that he had ever seen, ahead of them. He let his old and calloused hand touch the surface and looked back at Thorin, motioning for the prince to come closer.

"I think this is it. This is the entrance," Balin's accented voice cracked and made a few dwarves sigh in relief.

"Let's try to open it, then." Thorin's voice had muttered and soon the dwarves began to pound on the wall, whisper ancients words or Khuzdul and even attacked it with their weapons –barely leaving a mark-, but it was of no use. With their hope being crushed in the size of a walnut, the dwarves set up camp on the small ridge; snuggling together to keep warm because it was too much of a climb to go back down again. So they would have to wait until it was the right time for the door to open.

-

You were squished between Thorin and Bilbo, but didn't mind it at all. You gently played with Thorin's fingers as you listened to his deep baritone voice when he told the rest of the company that they would wait here for one day and eventually go back down to set up camp, leaving one or two dwarves here at any time at shifts; because it was of too much of a risk for them all to stay up here.

As night fell, the howling wind slowly died and only the snorts of the dwarves were heard on their small platform whilst the thin crescent moon shone its eerie and silver light across the landscape and in their faces. Bilbo was leaning on your right shoulder, his mouth closed but his rhythmic breathing betrayed the fact that he was vast asleep. Thorin, on the other hand, wasn't. You felt that he was brooding.

"What are you thinking?"

Your soft, whispering voice gently drifted in the ears of the prince. He looked momentarily at you, his grey, intense eyes holding many thoughts and secrets that he did not share for he looked away and glanced back at the moon that casted sharp shadows on his defined and scarred face.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep, Ayne," he had whispered back a bit briskly. Effectively setting a range of emotions in motion that you had swallowed for a long time.

"Stop lying, please. I am worried for you, Thorin. You are acting odd lately." You laid your head in the crook of his neck, your trembling lips pressing against the soft skin there as you hugged him as closely as you could when you tried to hold back your tears for the man he had grown to respect was slowly changing, even though he didn't it himself. "Tell me what bothers you, I beg of you."

"Nothing is bothering me, love. Stop crying." His voice suddenly became smooth and tender when a large and calloused hand wiped the tears from your cheek. He gently took your chin and lifted your face from his neck only to lean in and capture your lips in a fashion that made you forget about everything around you. Butterflies started to course through your guts for the thousandth time as he always seem to make you forget about your worries with a simple touch, a simple gesture.

Thorin's hand holding your chin slid down your naked, smooth neck and threatened to dip into your shirt when Bilbo made a gurgling and snorting sound as he snuggled against your more and caused the two of you to pause your ministrations. Thorin pushed his forehead against yours, causing his long black hair to mingle with your golden blond locks and his breathing to fan across your face.

"You know that I love you, right?"

You nodded, feeling insignificant and incredibly _warm_ under the intense gaze of his eyes that bored into your own.

"I love you too."

"Don't ever forget our love for each other, Ayne. No matter how much I will change. For I will die without you."

"And I can't bear to lose you too. I will stay with you, always. Don't you worry."

You were smiling warmly at the prince before you leaned in and kissed him on the lips with a passion that had nothing to do with lust, but pure love. With that, your thoughts and worries had somehow dispersed as you snuggled against Thorin and let sleep over come you. Despite his soothing words to you and the need to tell you his troublesome thoughts, Thorin said nothing as he kept his eyes focused on the moon; remembering the lust for gold in his grandfather's eyes. The intense fear of succumbing to that same kind of lust had started to boil underneath his very skin.

The next following days had proved to be uneventful when the new moon approached and set the valley in darkness. They each took shifts to guard the door in case it opened whilst the rest stayed down with the pony. On a faithful day the company once again gathered in their full number in front of the door.

"Tomorrow the last week of fall begins," Thorin mumbled, his brow pressed together whilst his hands slid over the smooth wall of enchanted rock.

"After fall comes winter," Bofur roughly translated his cousin Bifur's grunting.

"And after winter a new year arrives," Dwalin growled underneath his thick auburn moustache, "and our beards would grow until they slide down the mountain and into the valley to keep the ponies warm before something happens. What does our burglar do for us? Considering he has the invisible ring and supposed to be the excellent professional now! I doubt he should go through the front gates to examine things if the time comes!"

Bilbo heard the doubting words of the dwarves and wondered how he could make himself useful if there was nothing to do! He also heard your encouraging words that you believed him and that he would prove his resourcefulness another time soon, of course after reminding the rest of the company what he had done for them on their journey. It made the hobbit feel a little better, but still miserable on that upcoming afternoon with his back leaning against the rock.

The thin and new crescent moon appeared just over the hills, as the sun fell down underneath the horizon and colouring the clouds in all kinds reddish and pinkish shades. Suddenly, a sound was heard after the hobbit; a hard clacking sound. When Bilbo twisted and settled his eyes on a thrush beating a snail against the smooth rock, he felt a spark ignite in his head.

"Come! Quickly! I've got it!" Bilbo yelled over the edge, waving and whistling throwing any sense of danger and caution over board as he tried to get the dwarves' attention. They rushed and climbed up the mountain with haste –except for Bombur who was sleeping- and gathered around the smooth wall.

"I've got it. This is the time," the hobbit whispered when you stopped beside him and focused your eyes on the wall. So, they waited and waited, and just when the hope of opening the door sank in their shoes and a few annoyed grumbles travelled from one dwarf to another; the sun managed to throw one final red beam on the door, causing a small hole to appear and crumble in the smooth wall. The dwarves immediately seized their chance and threw themselves against it, but it did not budge.

"Thorin! Where is Thorin!? Quickly! The key, while there is still time!" You screamed and even before you finished your sentence the prince was at your side and thrusted the key into the hole; it fit! Quickly the prince turned it and there was a soft 'click!' when the door unlocked. At the same time the sunbeam died, the sun went down, the moon was gone and the night covered the land.

The dwarves pushed again and steady, but slowly, the door opened. It was five feet high and three feet wide when large narrow splits started to appear that were getting wider and wider as the door swayed inwards; revealing a dark gaping hole that led inside the mountain.

They were in.


	28. Chapter 28: Smaug

**Author's Notes: **It was a hard chapter to write (and a long one) but I think I managed quite well despite of using the book for several (okay a lot) lines and loopes. I wanted to depict Smaug as a dark-red dragon with a golden hue to it, for I don't ship the traditional bright red that he is, but left most of it to your guy's own imagination for the time being since Ayne hasn't actually 'seen' the dragon yet.

I have decided that my next fanfic is going to be about North & South. I am watching the series piece by piece and start getting acquianted by the way people dressed and acted in the 19th century because I enjoy doing research and like to have my facts right!

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and see you next time!

PS. Sorry for calling Balin an old goat, but I have always wanted to type that. Also I was to lazy to throw a grammar check over the document, so forgive any errors. Blame my laziness.

* * *

Chapter 28: Smaug

"Balin, care to walk ahead?"

"Why do you ask, lass?"

"Because maybe –just maybe- your magical white beard can illuminate the way in front of us. I can't see shit except your face warmer."

If it wasn't for the joyful tone in your voice and the good and healthy relationship between you and everyone else, Bilbo would have thought that you mocked the old dwarf and offence his beard (that was a dwarf's pride mind you) for being a simple face warmer. Balin laughed and walked ahead, earning a small chuckle from you.

"Better, girlie?"

"Much. Thanks, old goat."

There was a silence drifting in the air as the three of you ventured deeper and deeper in the dark, secret tunnel that led to Erebor that was only very dimly lit by precious minerals and gems that were radiating a strange kind of light. It was pulsing like a heartbeat, but didn't feel organic. It felt more like magic in your opinion; strange, unbound magic. Why no torches, you say? Why, the company had no time to produce any makeshift torches according to Thorin. Cheap bastard.

You and Balin had volunteered to keep Bilbo company as long as they could, because poor Bilbo had turned as white as a ghost when he was sentenced to venture into the mountain on his own. He needed a little mental support, and you didn't blame him, he was facing the giant dragon Smaug after all and you felt obligated to grant him that support for everything he had done for you and the company and moreover; because he was your friend.

Speaking of the hobbit; he was shuffling right next to you with his small and petite shoulder bumping into you on the occasion. You could almost hear his heartbeat that was ramming against his ribcage like a hammer on an anvil. Though you could barely see him, his whole aura screamed nervousness and fear.

Suddenly, Balin stopped and you followed suit, knowing that if the two of you ventured any further the dragon would smell the two of you and all would be for nothing. Balin turned, his eyes twinkling in the faint blueish hue that was embedded in the rock and made his white beard even whiter [1].

"I am sorry, Mister Baggings, but we can't go any further."

"I- I see," Bilbo softly whispered with a trembling voice. The little fellow looked down at his large and hairy feet. One of his hands were fidgeting with the edge of his wine red jacket as the other was fumbling with the pocket that held his magical ring. He looked up when you placed a hand on his head and messed with his ginger curls a bit.

"Don't worry Bilbo, I know you can do it." You pulled him in a hug with your hand placed on the back of his head. It felt wrong to send someone so friendly and merry to such incredible danger. "Stay safe. Now go," you whispered and gently pushed him away the moment he wanted to return the gesture.

Without looking over his shoulder the hobbit walked on, his fists clutched and back straight. You know that the hug had given him a sense of duty and your words have given him courage. The hobbit would turn out to be alright, you hoped. Balin placed a hand on your own shoulder as the hobbit ventured deeper and deeper into the tunnel and eventually vanished as he rounded a corner.

"His fate is in his own hands now. The hobbit is clever, Ayne. And much more cunning than all of us combined."

You chuckled at the old dwarf's words and slammed on his shoulder when the two of you turned around and walked back to meet up with the rest of the company. "He sure is. But let's just hope he is also more cunning than Smaug."

The wait for the Bilbo's return seemed to take on forever. Time was creeping by on a snail's pace, aggravating not only you, but also the rest of the dwarves. You were pacing back and forth with your hands folded on your back, sharing some worried glances with some dwarves now and then. It was well past midnight when the echoes of bare feet came from the tunnel.

Bilbo ran out of the tunnel, his forehead sweaty and his breathing heavy. He held something in his hand that he waved back and forth that was awfully familiar and heaved; "I- I'm back! Here's.. here's proof!"

The hobbit pressed a goblet made of the finest dwarven gold –fit for royalty- into Thorin's hands just before he was scooped up by you and pulled into a firm embrace as you laughed delighted and praised him like he was a Valar himself. Bofur and several other's joined you as the cup passed from hand to hand and new hope started to ignite in the hearts of the dwarrow.

Thorin's eyes watched how the cup passed the dwarves around and eventually landed into your own gentle grasp. You twirled the goblet and held it up, looking at it with hope and nostalgic twinkling in your eyes. Thorin felt his lips tuck upwards when your merry eyes met his own; they were so very close.

But before anyone could ask Bilbo of how it was inside the mountain a large and terrifying growl erupted from deep within. The rock seemed to tremble of fear beneath their very feet and all eyes settled on the deep entrance to Smaug's lair in a moment's notice. You swallowed thickly and glanced at Bofur, who was standing beside you. His chocolate eyes were fixed at the darkness, but all that was merry had drained out of their depths and were replaced by pure and utter terror.

"He is awake," Dwalin whispered weakly, and for the very first time you heard fear coat his voice. "He knows the goblet is gone!"

Dragons were known for their greed for gold and treasure, such was the reason Smaug had taken control of Erebor in the first place, for he longed for those riches with in an almost unnatural way. According to legends, Dragons also knew every single piece of gold and artefacts of the treasure they had taken for their own –Smaug was no exception-, hence why the mountain was now shaking like it was going to erupt like a volcano.

A terrifying roar shook the hearts of the dwarves as Smaug, a giant dark-red dragon with a golden hue coating his dark scales, burst out of the front gates and rose up in the sky like a giant fireball, only to settle on one of the many peaks. His smoking nostrils flared as his eyes –that were as bright as the sun with pupils similar to those of a cat- scanned around looking for traces of the thief that robbed a piece of his treasure.

"Thief! Murder! Where are you, you little worm? I will find you and burn you to charcoal!"

The voice of the dragon was unlike you have ever heard in your life. It was like a thousand avalanches rolling down at once. A thousand thunderstorms roaring and clashing in the sky and yet it was as suave, but also as sharp, as the wind that was cutting in the faces of the dwarrow. Everyone pressed themselves against the rockface in fear of the dragon spotting them and roasting them on the spot.

"Quickly, quickly! The door! The tunnel! We need to leave, now!" Bofur cried out, pulling you along and effectively gaining attention of the other dwarves as everyone quickly jumped on their feet and ran for the tunnel. A red light gleamed on the rocks and a terrifying flap of wings made their hearts quiver. The dragon was coming.

The dwarves fell inside the tunnel and the door barely closed when soaring flames of Smaug's fury licked the stone on the other side, warming it scorching heat and burning the weed, that had dared to grow on that small platform, to a crisp. You felt the door grow warm on the touch and the mountain shook again when a terrifying roar erupted from the dragon outside. Then the sound of wings and wind surges indicated that Smaug started to search elsewhere for the thief that had dared to steal some of his treasure; not knowing that they were right under his nose.

"Well, that must mean the end of our ponies. Poor things," Dori shook his head whilst he wiped some sweat from his brow and dusted some dirt from his grey beard.

"It also means that we have no chance of escaping now, we must wait until everything seems safe," Bombur whined, his stomach growling in the process and his spirits were effectively failing. To top it off, the dwarves could hear the dragon still raging and flying around the mountain with a fury that made his blood boil.

That night, none of the dwarves sleep in the blueish pulsating, dim tunnel, for they were far too scared and alert to catch any type of shut-eye. When dawn finally arrived the dragon seemed to have grown tired and his anger seemed to dwindle, because they couldn't hear it flying around and about anymore. Smaug had seemingly settled back in its golden littered lair to preserve some of his strength. He could afford it to wait and revenge would be ever so sweet; for him at least.

"We can't stay here forever. We need to get rid of Smaug," Nori muttered after the light of dawn seeped through the crack of the door and threw bright ray inside the tunnel, illuminating and warming it up a bit.

"He must have a weakness, everyone has," you slowly whispered with your hand running through your messy locks. You had made yourself a bit comfortable with your back against the stone as you snuggled in your coat. Bofur, next to you, snorted in a cynical laugh.

"Sure! Everyone has! But not everyone is a bloody dragon that can melt the flesh of your bones in a blink of an eye!"

Some dwarves agreed with him silently.

Your eyes settled on Bilbo, who was squished between Oin and Ori and stared back at you with a dreadful face. "I'm sorry.. Bilbo, but we have to depend on you once again." The voice that rolled over your lips was filled with dread and guilt, but despite the horrid idea of facing the dragon the hobbit stood up and dusted off his jacket.

"I know, I know. Guess it can't be helped right? First we need a plan; I guess that it's quite safe during the day to get a whiff of fresh air. We also have enough supplies with us to survive a couple of days, so that won't be a problem now either. And as you, Ayne, stated like my father in the good old days; everyone has a weakness."

The company had by now developed quite the admiration for the little hobbit. He had not only become appreciated, but has also risen to the rank of leader of the company by forming his own plans and mapping out his own ideas. He started to grow in personality and courage and it was a pleasant thing to see such a shy guy show his true potential and colours. That afternoon Bilbo dared to venture down once more in the belly of the mountain, ready to face the dragon and discover his weakness.

Ori had offered to go in his place instead, but Smaug knew the smell of Dwarf, as for Hobbit was unknown to him; thus Bilbo declined his offer kindly and had set off in the darkness once again. Leaving you and the company alone one again with troubled minds and worry for the horrid outcome that was approaching with rapid speed.

As the afternoon turned in to dusk the little hobbit returned, scorched and steaming with bits blisters on his feet and in his neck. The poor Bilbo missed some of his hair –that would take a long time to grow- and told bits and pieces of his conversation of Smaug whilst you and some of the other dwarves tended to his wounds.

"So he has a weak spoke on his left chest? A spot that has no scales?" Gloin growled as he handed you some wet towels, that you placed on Bilbo's burned feet in return. The hobbit seethed through his teeth at the sudden touch but then instantly relaxed because it felt so heavenly good.

"He has," the hobbit muttered and glanced to a thrush that was looking at the company, cocking its little head. He didn't like how the thrush was looking at him. Its dark eyes were twinkling with mystery and almost intelligence if Bilbo didn't know any better, but instead of focusing on the thrush that cocked his head every time someone spoke; he focused on Thorin that stood before him, his arms crossed and wearing a worried frown.

"I am pretty sure that he knew that we came from Laketown and had help there. I have also the awful feeling that his next step is going to be in that direction," Bilbo shook his head with a guilty look in his eyes. "I just wish I had said nothing about being a barrel-rider; it would even set a blind rabbit on the trail of Laketown!"

"There is nothing you can do about it, Bilbo. It's hard not to be tempted whilst engaging conversation with a dragon, at least so I have heard," said Balin who wanted to reassure the hobbit.

"You have at least come out alive. Who else can say that they have spoken to a dragon and lived? Let alone know about a weak spot in its armour?"

Night now rolled over the lands and engulfed the company in darkness. They decided to stay here on the ridge and go inside occasionally. Because they feared that the door wouldn't be able to open from the inside, they kept a rock between the door to keep it open; just in case. Conversations of history, dragon slaughters and treasures kept everyone awake and dreaming. Also, everyone wondered what kind of treasures Smaug guarded. Was it guarding royal armour? Impenetrable shields decorated with gold and other gems? There was one thing they knew for sure that was lying there; a big pure white jewel that emanated a strange kind of warm light, that seemed to seep into your very soul the moment you laid your eyes one it. It was the Heart of the Mountain; the Arkenstone.

"The Arkenstone," Thorin mumbled, his eyes distant and his brow furrowed in concentration. "A pure white stone that almost seems transparent. It glitters like silver in the presence of flames, as water in the sun, as snow under the stars and as rain in the silver light as the moon."

You were leaning against the prince as his baritone voice spoke of it with a longing that made worry pierce your heart, but you did not say a thing. Your eyes merely found that of Balin and knew that he silently agreed with your worries by the mere, sorrowful look that he gave you.

The conversations of treasures dispersed and silence ensued. It was an uncomfortable silence that made you, and some other members of the company, peak their eyes at the tiniest of sounds. Finally Fili was the one that dared to break the silence and his uncle's thoughts.

"Come, let's close the door. Before it's too late. I don't like this one bit."

There was something about the young golden haired dwarf that made Thorin nod at Dwalin, who merely kicked the stone out of the way and pushed the door shut. There was no key hole on this side of the door; they were trapped and with no moment too soon.

For the second that they had closed the door the mountain started to shake and trembled around them. Small rocks rained down on top of them; causing the dwarves to stand up and run deeper into the mountain to seek for cover, happy to be alive and inside the mountain; for the roaring of Smaug's fury echoed against the mountain and was carried away by the howling winds of the outside world. Smaug had tried to sneak out of the mountain as silently as he could, only to catch the thief and dwarves off-guard. He was furious of course when he didn't see a thing and after the dragon had cooled down after his little tantrum, he swore to have more vengeance. His words made the dwarves quake and dread in its wake.

"Barrel-rider!" Smaug roared.

"I do not know your smell, but I do know that you have waded through water and water is what I shall meet. If you are not one of the people of the Lake, than you are helped by them. They shall see me and remember who is the **real** King under the Mountain!" With those words the dragon rose up in flames and headed south to unleash his fury on Laketown.


	29. Chapter 29: Deep

**Author's notes: **This chapter isn't as dramatic as I wanted it to be. Ahwell, no turning back now! I want to focus more on Fili and Kili and the past of everyone's relationships. Some may recognize Ayne's little tale (I have posted it as a seperate prologue for a challenge on DeviantArt) and now I felt like it was the time to paste it into the story.

Forgive me for OCC Thorin; I really wanted to finish the chapter for it felt long and 'smeared out' at the end.

* * *

Chapter 29: Deep

Erebor.

You couldn't believe you were walking in its grotesque halls once more. The high ceiling was still covered in darkness for the light of Oin's and Gloin's fire could only reach so far, but you knew –because of how the air moved and their footsteps resonated against the giant arches that carried the mountain above their heads- that it was a grant as your memory had recalled. Nothing was collapsed, aside for a few destroyed columns, and in perfect state. Bats flurried away when the light of their torches licked their dark-furred bodies.

The company was clad in strong armour that they had found in the treasury. Some even had new weaponry, but most stuck to their old and trustworthy mattocks, swords, hammers and bows. You briefly remembered of how Thorin was searching for something, but did not find it. You had seen in it the same eyes that were now looking ahead, slightly narrowed for their took in the darkness ahead of them.

"Shh. Do you hear it?" Bofur suddenly whispered, earning the attention of every other dwarf.

"Hear what?" Bilbo squeaked. The sudden fear of Smaug returning curling around his heart.

For a moment it was silent when all the dwarves strained their ears to listen. Fili then slowly whispered and confirmed your suspicions of what it was; "I hear water."

"I do too. It's probably the river that leads to Laketown through Dale," Kili confirmed and nodded.

The dwarves followed the sound and eventually found the source of the water. They followed the river for what felt like forever, but soon something caressed their faces; fresh air. In a sudden impulse the dwarves followed the breeze of cold air that gently touched the skin of their cheeks. Their feet were slipping when they broke out in a sprint. You scooted past a corner and in an instant; a grin from ear to ear appeared on your face.

"Dale.." Balin whispered.

Before them the pale landscape of Dale stretched out before them, for they had reached the front gate. The sun was shining heartily on the faces of the company as everyone aligned themselves in front of the gate. It was a welcome –but cold- change than the stinking halls the dragon had been residing. In the distance, your eyes could spot the ruins of the City of Dale and a strange sense of melancholy settled in your gut.

"Is that the city?" Bilbo muttered, shielding his eyes from the pale sun as he looked on ahead.

Dwalin nodded slowly, his voice a dark whisper as he spoke; "Aye, it is. Almost all of its residents died in Smaug's attack."

"That's," the hobbit slowly began; realizing for the first time how awful it must have been for the dwarves to be driven out of their home. He could almost imagine the sight of the city burning with its people in it; struggling to get out but only to meet a horrible death of fire and smoke. He shuddered at how their screams must have been like.

"That's horrible. I'm sorry," he then finally finished with a small voice.

"It's alright. The past is the past. With feeling sorry and wondering how things could have been we can't bring back our dead, unfortunately," Nori soothed.

Thorin then announced that they would first try to find a nice spot to eat where they were safe for Smaug, but could still be on the look-out for him. Balin suggested that they should get to the guard-post at the south-west of the mountain. It was a long five-hour walk with the river to Dale as an obstacle since the bridge –which once crossed it- had crumbled. It was only a matter of guessing to see if the staircase to the guard-post had also survived years of Smaug's onslaught within the mountain.

"I am wondering how many times we missed breakfast, and other meals, when we were stuck in that timeless and forsaken cave." Bilbo had complained when they resumed the dragging of their feet on the dark marble floors, turning their backs to the sight of the open world and their faces to darkness once more.

"Come on Bilbo!" Thorin said with an unchararisctic smile on his face –his mood had grown quite a bit when they were wandering down these halls. "Don't call my palace a forsaken cave. Just wait when it's cleaned, scrubbed and redecorated."

"That will only be when Smaug is dead," you sharply inclined; reminding everyone that the matter wasn't settled yet. "Where is he anyway? I think it's hardly the time for him to be off and gone since he knows that we are around. Unless he is sitting on top of the mountain, waiting for our departure."

Your words seemed to upset the dwarves greatly and they all agreed that Smaug's absence was a sign of something disastrous coming their way. Ori shifted his weight from foot to foot as his hands fidgeted with the hem of his coat. He suggested that they should go all the way with Balin's plan and somehow manage to get to the south-western guard-post. Thus, the dwarves resumed their journey in the darkness of Erebor.

-

A few hours later, the dwarves were dragging themselves between the stones of the left bank of the underground river, careful not to slip and fall in the ice cold water. The bridge that Balin had mentioned appeared to have been collapsed such a long time ago that the stones, which once belonged to the bridge, had been eroded by the river in almost unrecognizable smooth shapes. Only when the rocks were lit in a certain specific angle, they showed faint marks of the carvings they once bore and decorated them.

After some time they reached the old road and decided to hole up somewhere between the rocks and have some breakfast that you could hardly call breakfast; for it mainly consisted out of cram (some kind of biscuit) and water. It effectively downed the spirits of the dwarves for it had no taste and merely fooled their stomachs that they were eating _something_ instead of giving them some nutrition, but it sobered Thorin up for he had been in some kind of love-sick daze the moment they had stepped into the treasury earlier on the day.

Bofur was smoking his pipe when the company ventured further on, following the road and away of the river. The merry dwarf was humming a small tune when whispers of smoke dangled around the flaps of his crazy hat and the two single braids of his hair. His chocolate eyes focused on the feminine being in front of him. Her smile lighting up her face every time when Kili, who was walking with her, cracked a joke or pestered his brother.

It has been month or two when they had decided to part as friends, but that didn't mean that Bofur stopped caring for Ayne's well- being. He had seen the worried glances that she had shot at Thorin whenever the prince was whispering to himself when he thought no one was looking. Bofur still felt the need to be there for her; so he was. Often conversing with her, or just sitting next to her whenever they set up camp.

Bofur's feelings were now passed the point of jealousy and just wanted Ayne to be happy. It was enough for him when she talked with mirth in her eyes and joy coating her voice as he carved his little wooden block. It had begun to take shape and form of a person. He had taken off the wings -for they didn't quite fit the image he had in mind- and made the figure hold up a sword. The rough outlines were almost done and soon the real carving began; a stage that he dreaded but deemed necessary. He wanted it to be absolutely perfect.

-

The terrain slowly started to change; the sculpted walls slowly made way for a more natural kind of rock and the road became less artificial and rockier. Soon the company was climbing up a small hill inside the cave with light adorning the top like a bright crown and lighting their way. Finally, they had reached the top and the small guard-house that was carved out of the rock.

Bilbo opened the door that led to the outside world and the view was stunning. Before the little hobbit the landscape of Middle-Earth stretched out beneath his feet. He could easily see the east, west and south of the mountain in almost a bird-like view; for the mountain was so tall that everything seemed puny and ant-like below them. Memories of days long past flooded your mind as you stood silently next to Thorin.

"This was the place –amongst others throughout the mountain- where we would put our guards on the look-out for danger," Thorin muttered as his grey eyes focused on the setting sun that coloured the sky like fire that also held not only your gaze, but also of some other dwarrow whilst the cold winter wind gently played with everyone's hair at will.

"Unfortunately when the times became prosperous, we deemed it was not necessary to place any guards up here. We could have seen Smaug sooner," Balin softly finished. His white beard was coloured a bit pinkish in the light of the sun.

"We set up camp here, for this gives us at least some protection and we can now see much without being seen." Thorin had announced.

"That won't be much of use when our arrival is already known," Dori complained, stroking his dark grey beard as Ori and Nori already started heave their equipment off of their backs and rolled their sore shoulders.

"That must be a risk we have to take. We cannot go any further today," you muttered softly and ending the discussion.

The dwarves were tired, very tired, when they laid down their packs at the small guardhouse that was a little bit more shielded against the biting cold. Some dwarves fell asleep on the spot, but you didn't. You, Balin, Fili, Kili, Thorin and Dwalin sat on the small open platform with the world outstretched at your feet. They did not make any fire, for it would attract too much attention to their little hide-out and probably even attract Smaug; wherever he was.

"I wonder where Smaug is. I don't like the fact that he had suddenly vanished," Dwalin muttered. His flexed his big and strong hands for a moment before resuming to the rhythmic sharpening the blades of his twin axes.

"You are not the only brother," Balin said reassuringly.

"I can't believe that we are actually here, though." Kili was shaking his head and ran a hand through his long and dark locks that he had inherited from his uncle. "I mean; its way bigger than I had expected. It took us a whole day just to come here! I can't fathom how long it would take to map out every road and every crevice here."

"It would take weeks, maybe even months, to do that, Kili. The mountain was a city –almost a small country- of its own. Despite the fact that we could support ourselves most of the time, we still needed food from the farms outside the mountain; that was where the city of Dale came in. It, and the humans living in it, was a part of us." You replied and settled against the cold hard rock and Thorin's shoulder. His hand was on your lap and had fallen victim to the absent fumbling of your fingers.

"It was horrible to see it fell and burned to a crisp until there was nothing left. I knew some good lads there. Prosperous lads with a sharp mind and wicked hands that could make a big difference in the world."

Thorin grew a bit tense beside you, for you knew that he was also remembering that faithful day of Smaug's arrival. You didn't have to look, to know that Thorin's gaze had grown hard and absent. His hand on your lap curled slightly around the fabric of your coat when the thought of betrayal –of the elves- crossed his mind.

Fili's gaze caught that of his brother momentarily in a silent scold for bringing up the subject, before he spoke in a hesitant way; "I'm sorry for bringing it up-"

"There is no need to apologize, laddie. If we want to move ahead, we need to stop looking behind." Balin quickly cut the young dwarf off and glanced slightly to the direction of his king. Thorin nodded and almost visibly relaxed as he let the brooding thoughts go, but not completely. One day he would accept that it had happened; it would be the day that Smaug would be dead and Erebor rebuilt.

"So, did you guys already know each other before Smaug?" Kili suddenly said, trying to keep the conversation going and the awkward silence at bay. His dark eyes shifted from you to Thorin, earning a small chuckle from your lips.

"I was but a mere warrior Kili. Of course I _knew _Thorin, but only by face and not personality and I think it was vice versa. Sometimes I saw him in the marketplace or during one of my many guard duties, but he never stood out. Never until that day."

Your words gained the attention of Thorin next to you. His intense eyes settled on your face as he shifted a bit and folded his legs. He had also picked up Dwalin's habit of sharpening his weapons when the nights were calm and it was a nice way to keep a mind –and body- busy. Plus, it was effective, for Thorin swore that he could cut through skin with little effort; exactly the way he liked it.

"Tell me, more." His baritone voice cooed you to think about your words and made you chuckle a bit.

"Well, it was because of Smaug really.. "

-

_Fire._

It blazed out of the once so beautiful kingdom of Erebor, with a thick dark cloud circling and adorning its mighty snow-covered peak almost like a crown. How ironic.

The city of Dale was destroyed. Houses had burned down to ground and the dead were beyond counting and salvage. The sickening smell of burning corpses wafted in nostrils of the dwarves of Erebor and the remaining villagers of Dale. Despite the horrible sight you could not turn your eyes away, because your feet were practically glued on the hill-sight.

Your home, the kingdom you were proud to serve, had been burn down and reduce to ashes. To nothing.

The realization dawned on you and you fell on your knees; dropping your belongings on the ground that you had managed to salvage in your haste. A hoarse cry tore itself from your throat. A cry of the damned and the sorrowful. A cry to match everyone's torn hearts.

The despair and fear you had felt came out at once as your tears left clean streaks in your soot and ash covered face. You couldn't stop; you didn't dare to even try it. Your hands entwined themselves in your frizzled hair when you took wheezing breath between each sob.

Then two strong arms silently lifted you on your feet and hoisted the pack on your back. A napkin wiped your tear-stained cheeks and you swallowed down the thick lump that had managed to manifest itself in your throat when you finally got a hold of your breathing. You were taken to the rest of the caravan without a single word uttered. Your sight still blurry as the tears kept running, but you didn't scream anymore and let your legs carry your own weight when your arms were released.

They were right; you had to keep moving. There was no point in dwelling here and cry like the insane for something that was lost now and beyond your reach.

You lifted your gaze from the ground and stared ahead, towards the setting sun that had turned the sky in a beautiful orangey colour with flecks of gold, purple and pink. At the very beginning of the caravan you spotted a familiar figure. His black manes were dancing in the wind and his ash covered face set hard, but his eyes were clouded with secret thoughts when he looked back over his shoulder, glancing at his people.

Those sharp blue eyes saw everything; every face, every person, every child and every elder. He saw every look of despair and every tear-stained face. At that very moment you saw something change in his physique; his shoulders had pulled back and his back straightened with a high chin and a fire hidden in those endless eyes of his.

Right there and then you knew that Thorin, son of Thraín, son of Thrór, who was leading the enormous stream of refugees of which the most probably wouldn't survive and your future king, would lead you and your people back to wealth, riches and more important than all of those things: a home.

-

"I felt like my world had caved in that moment. But then you jumped out of the crowd and made me feel hope ago. You made me feel hope to try and reclaim our home back, or die trying. I think it was Dori and Bifur who had hauled me up at that moment, but I am not sure. I was just too.. broken up for it to think about it," you whispered as you remembered that faithful day in all its horror. Even the distinctive smell of burned corpses managed to waft itself back into your nose, causing you to cough a bit and almost gag.

"You alright?" Fili hastily patted you on the back as you shot upright, trying to reduce the coughing. Slowly you nodded and accepted the water that Balin offered generously; taking a few large swigs. There was a grim pull at the lips of the old dwarf, for he also probably remembered the dreading screams of mourn and despair.

"I'm fine, thanks." You swallowed and handed back Balin's water with a nod of gratitude. "Anyway, that moment made such a huge impression on me that I wanted to follow you; even in death. Even when you hated my guts, because of the mistakes of my father. And here I am."

"And I am grateful that you are here. I had no idea that I was such a beacon.. for all of you," Thorin's deep voice whispered as one of his arms slipped around your shoulders and his other hand stroked away some of the strands out of your face in a caring, but tender matter.

Balin and Dwalin chuckled, Fili and Kili merely grinned.

"You have always been a beacon of hope and strength for us, Thorin. Always," Balin smiled. His eyes twinkling with passion and deep respect.

The conversation dwindled and you settled against Thorin, your head leaning against his shoulder and your arms wrapped around his torso. Fili, Kili and Balin had retired to the small guardhouse, but Thorin and Dwalin softly conversed with each other, trying not to disturb you too much as you tried to take some shut-eye.

Your mind was tired with the worries that had plagued it for a long time and the adrenaline coursing in your veins because of Smaug and fear. Images of Erebor in its long lost glory flashed before your half-lidded eyes. Sleep started to pull at your consciousness and finally completely took over your entire being. Only one, final question –that you would forget the next morning- burned on your mind before it was completely taken by the murky depths of sleep; What was that red light burning in the distance?


	30. Chapter 30: Preparations

**Author's notes:** Man, things are really coming to a climax! What about Ayne?! What about, Thorin, Fili and Kili?! What about Bofur?! How the f- am I going to end this in a way that everyone likes?!

The next fanfic I am planning to write is going to be about North & South (Yay!). But I have far too many idea's about the character it is going to be about. Review or PM if you have any idea's about the name(that one especially), background or personality. Feel free to share your thoughts! :D

Question: How do YOU want this fic to end?

* * *

Chapter 30: Preparations  
  
The whole night, one or two dwarves had stood watch, but had found nothing out of the extraordinary aside for some freakish lights very far in the distance; too far to exactly pin point what it was. When the pale morning light dared to make an appearance over the horizon, and everyone had woken, the company noticed something odd was happening. Your eyes focused on the forests miles ahead and slowly they narrowed against the pale rays of the sun.

"Something's wrong."

Huge swarms of all type of birds flocked together in the sky in dark, fluttering clouds. Their screeches filled the sky and even reached the ears of the almost-deaf Oin, and that counted for something. Bofur stood beside you as he bit off a piece of an apple, his brows knitted together –like that of most dwarves- and his gaze worried.

"The birds shouldn't flock together like that, because the time for migration has been passed a long time ago. They spent the winter here," Thorin softly muttered, his eyes throwing a worried glance at you for a split-second.

Bofur tossed a little piece of apple high in the sky; but the birds –that would otherwise seize their chance- chose to ignore it and merely flew out of the sailing object. "And they would take the bit of apple. Even the vultures there in the distance are circling around and about; like there is a war coming," the toymaker said.

Suddenly Bilbo pointed at a small thrush that fluttered towards them and eventually settled down on a rock. "There! It's the thrush from earlier! He must have survived the cave in, but I bet the poor snails didn't."

The thrush looked at the company, cocking its little head. It chirped and fluttered its little wings a couple of times before going silent. He repeated the action after some silence and coked his little head again at the company, blinking its beady eyes. It was like he wanted to tell them something.

"Too bad it isn't a raven, for I don't speak Thrush," Balin then finally sighed when the thrush fidgeted around, fluttering its little wings once more in almost an impatient matter.

Bilbo looked at Balin in such a strange way that the old dwarf chuckled and gently explained; "Ravens are kind friends of ours and use to deliver secret messages in trade for shimmers to adorn their nests. They grow quite old and have excellent memory. The ravens used to dwell on this altitude, but there was one pair more revered than others; Carc and his wife. Alas, the legends say that this ancient breed of ravens had died out long ago.."

Before the old dwarf had finished speaking; the little thrush screeched and fluttered away with haste. Dori scratched the top of his head.

"Though we don't understand him, I think he understands us! I wonder what will happen!" Dori had uttered and so the company sat down and waited under the joy of a light breakfast of apples, bread and dried meat. You were seated next to Kili, who was in turn seated next to his brother Fili, who sat next to Thorin etc.

The boys were laughing together as they ate and you took your time to silently observe them; Fili was definitely the oldest one. You could see it on the amount of facial he was having, but also his demeanour what was a little more serious and down to earth than his junior brother. You guessed that Fili looked a lot like his father, for none of Durin's lineage had fair hair like he did. Even though Kili was his younger brother, they were nothing alike.

Kili was the one that brought the most mischief and was the more rambunctious one. He didn't pay attention on how he said things and was known at the Iron Hills for his witty tongue. Despite that he didn't have much favour with the female dwarves; perhaps it was because his beard didn't quite want to grow? His hair was a very dark brown, almost black like his uncle, so you figured that it originated from his mother Dís; the sister of Thorin. You had never known Dís personally, but you surely had seen her walking in the halls of Erebor with Thorin and his other brother Frerin (who's personality was more like Kili's) in more prosperous times.

Dís was a fair woman to see; her hair long, dark and thick; much like Thorin's. Her eyes were a bright blue, like Fili's, but instead of harsh and intense like Thorin's, they were big and kind. For what you knew about the woman, she was a fair lady and not the warrior type of woman, but the reason that she stayed home at the Iron Hills were nothing more but mere guesses from everyone.

It was either she wasn't the type to go on an adventure being all lady-like, or she thought it was a fool's quest; destined to fail. But then the question rose why she would let her two sons go with her brother if she thought it was a fool's errant? So it must have been the first reason; she didn't have the experience or knowledge to come along. But neither did Bilbo, so it must have been a third reason; probably that she that she simple _didn't care_.

Frerin's participation was out of the question; for the younger brother of Thorin had passed away at the battle Azanulbizar. It was devastating to see the young dwarf's head on the spike of a filthy orc with his eyes bawled out and his mouth open in a never-dying scream. That image of his headless brother and grandfather, plus the news of his disappeared father, had probably never left the mind of Thorin; who was now looking ahead at the brightening sky and waiting for any sign of the thrush that was now gone for a good ten minutes.

"I wonder where the thrush is," Ori slowly began. The young dwarf munched on a little piece of dried meat as he spoke, and before he even finished the thrush returned; accompanied with a much larger and black feathered bird.

It was a raven.

The raven was the largest you had ever seen, but you immediately recognized as the type that Balin had described. Vague memories of your childhood and the black birds fluttering around came to your mind, but were quickly pushed away when the raven landed in the midst of the dwarves. His eyes were a milky white –indicating that he was as good as blind-, his once so magnificent black feathers were now shining lacklustre of old age, and the top of his head was a bit baldish.

The raven hopped in Thorin's direction and seemed to bow at him. When he opened his beak you expected to hear the tongue of the Ravens to come out, but much to yours (and everyone else's surprise) he had the ability to speak the Common Tongue.

"Thorin, son of Thraín, son of Thrór, and Balin, son of Fundin" the old raven cawed with a strangely pitched voice, "I am Roäc, son of the long passed away Carc, who you once knew well. It has been one-hundred-and-fifty-three years when I erupted from an egg, but I have not forgotten what my father told me. Now I am the head of the ravens of the Mountain, but we are with few. Despite that, we remember the kings of old and our friendship with your people. The birds, from every direction of the wind around the Mountain and Dale, flock together for Smaug is dead!"

Dori jumped on his feet. "Dead? No way!"

"Dead? How is that possible?" Bombur muttered, only to be cut off by Gloin;

"Who cares how! He is gone! We have been sitting here like scared rabbits for nothing! The treasury is ours!"

The red-bearded dwarf slammed his brother Oin on the shoulders before they did a merry dance. Most of the dwarves participated and immediately a wild tune was struck. The raven cawed, trying to get attention but none listened or heeded the bird's attempts to regain order. You stood up, brows furrowed and yelled; "**SILENCE!**"

It immediately was.

"The raven hasn't finished speaking!" You voice had pitched down to a threatening tone that made even Dwalin's eyebrows shoot up. You turned back to the raven, smiled and nodded at your feathered friend; "I'm sorry, do continue Roäc."

The raven inclined its balding head and hopped to Thorin, who had been silent all this time with a dark and considering expression on his face. "Thorin Oakenshield, the mountain and its treasures are now yours and yours alone, for now. The news of Smaug's demise has already travelled far and wide and reached many ears," the raven cawed. His milky, beady eyes blinked a couple of times.

"You are not the only one that wants the treasure, for the Elves of Mirkwood are already on their way with vultures – that are hoping for carnage- guiding their way. Also, the people of Laketown are marching to the Mountain, for their homes are destroyed and they seek repayment. Do not trust the Master of Laketown, but Bard –the one who killed Smaug- for he is grand and more honest than you think."

Thorin slowly stood up, his voice seethed with anger as he spoke. "Reclaim our gold, would they? I would like to see them try.." He turned on his heels and bowed lightly at the old Roäc. "I thank you Roäc, son of Carc, but must ask if the stronger ones of your kind can fly to our brethren in the west and the east. Most preferably to my cousin Daín in the Iron hills, since he is the closest of my kind and has powerful warriors."

"I shall not judge your decision, but I shall do what I can." With those words the old raven turned and flew away, followed by the little thrush that would not appear any time soon again.

"We need to get back to the halls of Erebor, and quickly." Your voice rang as your eyes were lit with an inner fire that also seemed to rage in the eyes of the other dwarves.

"Aye, let's do that, but let's make haste! We need to salvage whatever we can," Balin agreed.

Thus, the dwarves left the guard-post and ventured back into the darkness of the Mountain. After a few days of savaging valuable armour, weapons and mapping out Erebor once more; they came to the conclusion that every other gate –except the front gate- had been destroyed by Smaug. The only thing that was left doing was reinforcing the front gate so that it was quipped for battle and able to withstand blows of battering rams and the like.

This is where the true skills of the dwarves came in. The whole company worked as a team when building on the front gate. Forges of old had been reignited and were manned by Thorin, Dwalin and Gloin who all possessed some knowledge of blacksmithing. You, Bofur and Bifur were hammering away at the front gate –applying the steel reinforcements that the three older dwarves were making- and made sure that the gate was able to open and close again once more.

Fili and Kili had been sent on their way to fetch the three surviving ponies –according to the ravens that fluttered around, giving the company news about their adversaries and kin- and salvage whatever was salvageable, with the preference for food and major supplies.

Oin and Gloin were making sure that water from the underground river was drinkable and constructed some kind of well that made tapping water a lot easier and less hazardous. Because it was quite dangerous to go down the slippery rocks only to get vials of water with the risk of getting caught by the water always lurking around the corner.

Bilbo and Ori had been given the task to map out Erebor. Together, with Nori and Dori accompanying them just in case something else had taken a residue in the mountain, they walked down the giant halls and sketched how everything was holding up and pointed out weak points throughout the pillars, that prevented the mountain for collapsing down upon them, to be improved in the future so that the kingdom of Erebor would be truly forever-lasting.

-

"Stop wobbling! Stand still! Do you want me to fall or something?"

You were standing on top of Bifur's shoulders, who merely grunted at you in response and stood on a make-shift platform about 10 feet off the ground (the front gates were enormous). You were doing your best to balance yourself whilst you were fastening a large steel brace that fit the whole length of the door. Next to you was Bofur, standing on Dwalin's shoulder and fastening the other end.

"I am not that heavy. You are exaggerating." You responded at Bifur's grunts in Khuzdul. It drew out a chuckle from Bofur.

"Don't say that to a woman Bifur! And she's right; you are exaggerating, she is not that heavy. At least she doesn't appear that way!"

"And you are heavy! So stop moving and keep on working!" Dwalin grunted beneath Bofur. His tattooed face had flushed a bit.. red. Let just say that there was a resemblance between his face and that of a tomato.

You stuck out your tongue at the toymaker, who gave you a cheeky grin and a thick fat wink in return before going back to work.

A nail, that was easily the size of your middle finger and twice as thick, was set against the whole where the heavy iron plate was supposed to be fastened. Sweat pearled on your forehead –despite the chilly wind that licked your blushing cheeks- when you drove in the nail with a strong hammer. Bangs of your and Bofur's hammers rang throughout the large hall, where the fires of old burned again and illuminated the grotesque place. Making the bronze decorations and fortifications on the pillars shimmer like gold.

"Alright, next one." You heaved, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your sleeve.

You and the rest of the dwarves had pulled off their armour, for it was of no use and would only be an obstruction when you tried to get some work done. Thus, you were only clad in your distinctive crimson red tunic, black pants with equally black boots. Your golden blond hair had grown quite a bit since the time you chopped it off to escape Azog -that was now several months ago- and was pulled into a firm but small knot on the back of your head; with just a few whiskers of hair escaping here and there.

Bifur shuffled a meter to the left and stopped as he stood next to Dwalin, shoulder to shoulder. You and Bofur placed the final nails against the massive door and once again a symphony of metal hitting metal rang throughout the front gates of Erebor. You were just about to give the nail one final, and powerful, blow when Bifur shifted beneath you. There was a slight imbalance from your part, which you hastily tried to compromise by leaning to the opposite side.

"Bifur, stop-" You barely managed to finish your sentence when a curse in Khuzdul left the dwarf's lips; he had lost the grip on your feet.

You felt yourself slowly topple backwards as your body passed the point of no return, despite Bifur's attempts to steady you reaching up to your knees, but it was of no avail. The hammer fell from your hands the moment you felt gravity pull violently at your body. Soon there were no shoulders where your feet were standing upon and your eyes spotted see the widened, shocked eyes of the three dwarves, who grew smaller and smaller the deeper you fell. Bofur's lips moved almost in slow motion as he shouted your name, but your brain didn't register his voice.

The fall had felt like an eternity –but were just a few seconds in reality- before you hit the ground. And by Durin's beard, you hit the ground hard. All the air was squished out of your lungs in one go when your back hit the solid stone ground first in a sickening thud, then your head and then your feet. You immediately started to gasp desperately for air.

And man, it _hurt_.

In no-time the dwarves rushed to your aid. Bofur had almost jumped down the scaffold and fell on his knees at your left. "Ayne! Shit.. shh. Take it easy," the toymaker hushed as he tried to calm your rapid breathing down. You gulped a couple of times and allowed the sweet, fresh air to properly fill your lungs and supply your bloodstream with oxygen once more.

"What happened? Easy, lass." Balin came into view as he took place on your other side. His experienced eyes racked over your form before focussing on the chocolate orbs of the dwarf in front of him. His voice was sharp, worried, straight to the point, but also kind.

"She lost her balance and fell," was Bofur's simple explanation. His rosy face had gone a bit pale. Balin nodded and once again his eyes focused on your own.

"How are you feeling? Nothing's hurting? Nothing feeling amiss?"

"I'm.. I'm fine. I'm sure it's nothing," you quickly said and wanted to move, but there was a sharp pain erupting from your back and shooting straight through your body. You tensed visibly, but puffed slowly in order to make the hot pain go away; and it did.

"Never mind that; I think there is something wrong."

"Where?"

"My back."

_'Please, don't be broken. Don't be broken,' _you desperately thought when you were slowly steadied and gently rolled over to your right side. Your hands rested on Bofur's knees as his hands kept your body steady at your right shoulder and hip together with Dwalin (who was cursing quite colourful underneath his breath). An excruciating pain was throbbing throughout your spine during that movement, but slowly dimmed when you had settled. Your eyes looked passed Bofur and spotted the distinctive black and white hairdo of Bifur, but he wasn't alone.

"What happened?" The soothing tone of Thorin's baritone voice echoed in your ears, calming your rapid breathing easily when you felt your tunic being lifted at your back. Alas, Thorin had walked out of your view, but his voice seemed to originate somewhere behind you.

"She fell down the scaffold.. landed on her back," Balin quickly explained. The calloused tips of his fingers brushing briefly against the skin of your back as he folded your tunic in such a way so that it would fall back down.

There was a short and heavy silence and you could only imagine the look Thorin shot at Bifur, Bofur and Dwalin. A sigh seemed to roll over the prince's lips and you heard him sit down near your head. His face came into view; it was worn, filthy and sweaty, but beautiful as ever. His storm-coloured eyes gleamed with worry and tenderness whilst his rough hands stroked away the strands of hair out of your face.

"I am going to feel your back. Say something when it doesn't feel right, okay?" Balin muttered. You nodded and focused on the face of Thorin above you; who's lips moved as he soundlessly whispered an "It's okay," to you. Your brows furrowed together when you felt the tips of Balin's finger go across your back, pressing here and there.

So far, no pain. Until he pressed again the vertebra of where your pelvis began.

You gasped and tensed when soaring pain shot through your spine and made your legs trembling. You were clenching your teeth whilst uttering; "Shit, yes! There!" Balin felt around a little more –but carefully- and eventually pulled back your tunic. You were rolled back onto your back and saw Balin rub his eyes with his thumb and pointing finger.

"And?" Thorin asked, because you dared not to.

"It's not broken, but it is traumatized and bruised. I am afraid you won't be fit enough to fight any time soon," Balin's dreading words were.

"WHAT?!" You shot up, but immediately fell back down on your back because of the pain. "No way! You guys need me! I am going to fight, no matter what!"

"Then you will perish. You will not fight when the time comes near," Thorin's sharp and harsh words were; making your eyes snap at his own. He was serious.

"Isn't there any way to make her better or at least a little bit so that she won't feel utterly useless?" Bofur slowly asked after taking a breath. One of his hands was lying on your shoulder and adding some pressure to keep you down in case you decided to jump up again. Balin slowly nodded and was absently stroking his beard as he crawled on his feet and straightened his own, old back.

"There is. I have some medicinal herbs left in my pouches and I'm sure Ayne has a few too. Together we can make a powerful painkiller. If she takes it a few times a day and has her back loosened up regularly she can do some things, but she can't strain herself."

It was the type of advice that you would have given if this had happened to another member of the company. Your mind raced when trying to think of other options; but those were only limited to being bed-ridden and take a few weeks off to recover. A few weeks that you didn't have. You nodded, agreeing with a soft "Yes," rolling over your lips. Slowly Thorin, Dwalin and Bofur helped you sit up.

"Easy, Ayne. Lean on me," Thorin whispered in your ear as he gently pulled your left arm over his shoulders and settled his right arm on your right side, pulling you against him so that you experience less pain whilst walking; due to the fact that you were properly supported. Your eyes found that of Bofur and Bifur for a moment. A weak smile pulled at the corner of your lips.

"I'll be fine, don't you worry. It's not your fault," you muttered when passing the two dwarves, who said nothing back.

Bofur sighed deeply as he watched yours, Thorin's and Balin's retreating forms. Bifur grunted something and rubbed his eyes. Bofur patted his cousin reassuringly on the shoulder. "I'm sure she knows that it wasn't all your fault, haven't you heard her? She will be fine."

Bifur's sharp eyes looked up and bored into those of Bofur as he growled something in Khuzdul. Bofur blinked a couple of times and looked away with slightly flustered cheeks. "That is not relevant anymore, Bifur. She has Thorin to take care of her, and I am happy if she is."

"You two! Stop talking, we have a job to finish first. I want to be ready before dinner, okay?" Dwalin's deep voice growled; effectively gaining the attention of the toymakers.

Bofur sighed and grabbed your hammer from the ground and walked towards the scaffold with his cousin at his heels. Dwalin was right; there was still a job to be done and the front gates need to be tightly secured before the storm was coming. And it was coming way faster than any of the dwarves had anticipated.

That night, Fili and Kili had returned with the ponies and some major supplies. Unfortunately, the food that they had managed to bring with them was mostly cram. But if the options were cram or nothing, then the choice was easily made right? So, the dwarves were sitting around a bonfire that they had made in the middle of the giant hall way –of course with the front gates open so that the smoke could drift away- whilst they had made beds around the pillars.

You were lying on your stomach on one of those beds, your eyes focused on the merry gathering of dwarves ahead. They were playing flutes, violins and other instruments that they had found in the treasury. It was a nice change to the silent, heavy nights filled with dread and fear that they had experienced multiple times. Even Bilbo seemed to enjoy it! Thorin was sitting very near you –to keep you company- with his back against a pillar and his hands holding a small, golden and inscribed harp, but his fingers didn't pluck the strings.

"How are you feeling?" He spoke softly. His eyes didn't look at you, but gently admired the decorations of the harp.

"Better, now that I am high on almost every kind of medicinal herbs," you had responded softly and laid your head on your arms that were folded beneath your head. Your eyes roamed Thorin's sharp and defining nose, his thin lips and his prominent brow. It was all prominent, but not too much. Too little prominent features and he would look boyish, too much and he would be bulky. It was just right.

"I hope that I would be able and fit to fight with you guys."

Thorin exhaled deeply. "I can't make any promises," he said, "but if it turns out to be alright within a couple of days, you may. I just don't want to lose you because of a foolish decision, do you understand?"

His voice was soft, tender and almost heart-wrenching as he spoke. You bit on your bottom lip and nodded, understanding the point of view of a man that had lost nearly everything. Thorin gave you one of rare tender smiles as he took up the harp and settled it against his shoulder. The tips of his fingers plucked at the strings, conjuring a gorgeous melody that was filled with every type of emotion at the same time.

It was majestically beautiful.

Thorin closed his eyes as he fully emerged himself in playing the harp that his fingers hadn't touched for a very long time. He didn't play a certain melody, except the one coming from his heart and that was the best melody every to be heart. One must play, fight and live with a soul and with his heart and that was exactly what Thorin was doing.

You closed your eyes and felt your unconsciousness drift away to the dark slumber of sleep. Unbeknownst to you or any other of the dwarf (except for later on in the middle of the night when Balin would spot the camps) was that the people of Laketown had reached the mountain and just camped outside of it.

Ready to engage at the faintest light of the approaching dawn.


	31. Chapter 31: Heart

**Author's notes:** This was a tough chapter, but one I had really looked forward too to write. I just hope it isn't too 'dramatic' and that you guys enjoy it! :D

* * *

Chapter 31: Heart

Thorin had declined.

He had declined the _kind_ proposition of the people of Laketown to give up some of his gold. So the company had closed the front gates of Erebor and decided to wait until the people of Laketown were ready to negotiate in any kind of way. Thus, declaring the Mountain under siege, much to Bilbo's dismay. But Thorin's mood had turned so grim and sour, that none of the dwarves decided to speak up. In fact; most of them seemed to agree with him!

The previous days, Thorin had repeatedly searched the treasury and its value was heavy one his mind. Even though he had mainly searched for the Arkenstone, he still had eyes for the other precious things that it harboured; reminding him of happy times, tales long told and the hardships that his people had endured.

Bilbo plumped down next to you, muttering and whining about that the whole mountain smelled of dragon and that he couldn't eat another crumb of cram.

Days had gone by and slowly you began to feel better and better. You even managed to walk a bit, albeit not completely pain free, and helped the dwarves with some small tasks like washing their clothes or polishing and sharpening their armour and weapons. It was long and boring work, but it was at least something and it made you feel a bit more appreciated. It was also a lot better than the work the other dwarves were doing; categorizing and ordering the treasury.

Thorin's longing for the Arkenstone had grown stronger, for he did not speak of anything else. The words "The Arkenstone is for me more valuable than anything else. I claim it for my own, just like my father and grandfather claimed it for themselves. I will have revenge on anyone who is withholding it from me," made fear curl up in Bilbo's heart. It also made the hobbit, and you, wonder what will happen if Thorin did find the Arkenstone. Despite your worries for Thorin, you did not say them out loud and merely kept it to yourself as you made their armour shine like a mirror and their blades as sharp as it could possibly be.

"I do not find this a good plan, Thorin. Who will feed you when you have no allies surrounding you? Winter and snow is following Dain –who is still two days removed from the Mountain- closely behind; you will starve."

Roäc's words did not receive the result that the raven wanted though. For Thorin decided that they should wait and that the winter would also hit the elves and men just as hard as they would hit them. He was determined that they would prevail; despite the prospect that Erebor was going to be Thorin's downfall.

Something needed to change.

At one afternoon, when you were resting on your stomach on your bed roll, Bilbo sat down next to you with his sketchbook clutched in his hands and his hairy feet folded beneath him. You looked up at the hobbit, seeing the troubled expression in his eyes and the fidgeting of his hands. He wanted to say something, but was still searching for words. He looked down at you; his mouth opening and closing.

"Ayne, I need to tell you something-" The hobbit finally began, but was instantly cut off by you.

"I know. You have the Arkenstone, don't you?" You whispered softly after glancing around and made sure that your whispers weren't heard by unwanted ears. Bilbo pulled up a quirky eyebrow and looked at you in way of "how did you know?!".

You chuckled and scratched your chin whilst replying; "It was written all over your face. Each time Thorin mentioned your eyes shot to your own bedroll."

"Oh," Bilbo finally uttered. He licked his lips and looked around for a moment. "What should I do with it? Thorin is really keen on finding it and I am afraid what will happen if he does."

The words of the hobbit were serious and it also gave you food for thought. You glanced ahead and focused on the little figure called Thorin. He was working on the blacksmith, but his eyes were constantly darting around like those of a shifty animal, always looking and always glancing at the arms and pockets of every dwarf who passed in the hope to see something bundled up that looked like the Arkenstone.

"Give it to Bard. If he really is as honourable as Roäc says, he will take it and use it to rebuild his city. The Arkenstone has far more value than the entire treasury combined," you whispered softly and tearing your eyes off Thorin; afraid that he would look up or feel someone looking at him and interrupt yours and Bilbo's conversation.

"When?"

"Tonight. That thing needs to leave, it poisons his mind. I wish I could come with you but-" You gestured around, indicating that you still had some pain with walking for short distances. So sneaking in and out of the camp of the people of Laketown would be quite difficult.

"It's alright. I got the magic ring remember?"

Thus, it was decided. The Arkenstone would leave Bilbo's hand that night, and man; did the night fall quickly. The company was lying down to sleep, one by one. The fire of Gloin slowly dimmed and eventually completely died with a little help of a bucket of water. You were leaning against a pillar, your eyes narrowed at the sight of Thorin searching through the jewellery and precious artefacts that the company had categorized and stacked up.

You were silently watching in the darkness, careful not to get noticed by the prince, with a furrowed brow. Then, like a whisper, your ears picked up the soft patting of bare feet behind you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed that it was probably and invisible Bilbo; for you saw nothing.

"Good luck, Mr. Baggings," you softly whispered to yourself after a watching the darkness for a few silent moments.

After a few minutes, you pushed yourself away from the pillar and walked back in the giant, grotesque and mind-blowing halls of Erebor; who were dimly lit by torches here and there to grant your eyes a little bit of light, but it was more than enough. The vision of dwarves was quite good in the dark –though not the best- and you were able to navigate through the countless of corridors to the still smouldering bonfire.

On your toes, you walked –as stealthy as you possibly could- around the snoring and sleeping dwarves. Oin made a wild gesture in his sleep and it almost seemed like he was waking up; but the old dwarf turned on his side and his body immediately went slack again. As you came to your bedroll, you noticed that someone was already there. A certain someone with a very distinctive hat.

Bofur's chocolate eyes were briefly lit like smouldering coals when he took a deep inhale of his pipe. He watched you approach slowly, cautiously and eventually sit down next to him; inclining your head to him.

"Bofur," you whispered softly in acknowledgement.

The toymaker nodded back at you with a small smile tucking at his lips. "Ayne, want a drag?" He offered his pipe.

You carefully took it from him and took a small inhale, watching the ashes glow a gorgeous deep red – like Smaug's fire- and slowly exhaled, savouring the smell and taste of sweet Old Toby on your tongue. It was very nice and very relaxing. You folded your legs underneath your body as you shifted a bit and handed Bofur's pipe back to him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

The voice rolling off your lips was but a mere whisper, but loud enough for Bofur to hear. The dwarf took off his head and laid it beside him, with the pipe stuck between his lips; he slowly loosened the two single, gravity defying, braids in his hair and ran a hand through it, untangling it a bit. His dark, auburn hair was longer that you thought and a small, curly fringe –that you hadn't noticed before- adorned his forehead.

"I want to talk to you about something. About what happened, or is going to happen."

You raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I just wanted to say sorry, on Bifur's behalf, for letting you fall. It was not his inten-"

"Bofur, please," you cut him off. It was really frustrating to see the dwarf always take up the blame of an accident that he didn't cause. Like he was constantly scolding himself for not looking out for you. You weren't made of porcelain you know!

"It was an accident. I will be fine."

The chocolate eyes of the dwarf next to you bored into your own. They flickered with worry.

"Are you sure? Because I know that you have a hard time to stand for long periods of time. Lifting heavy things aren't easy either; I have seen you working on the armour, seated, because of that. What will happen if a battle does begin? You are a healer and a fighter, but can't do either of those things if we need to fight tomorrow. You will die," Bofur whispered. His accented voice was firm, worried and serious.

"I won't die, because I will be better when that moment comes. I am quick healer." You were trying to soothe him, but the thoughts of battle had also crossed your mind; what if you didn't heal fast enough? You weren't the type to let others fight for you, but what if you died in battle because you are too selfish, or too prideful to back away for just a moment?

The look that Bofur gave you was enough to make the fake smile disappear from your face; he didn't buy it. A large hand reached up and stroked away a strand of hair behind your ears. His voice was cracking slightly as he spoke and his eyes were filled with turmoil and dark thoughts torturing the poor dwarf's mind.

"I- _we_ don't want you to die."

"I _won't_ die."

The voice coming from your throat was firm and reassuring like the time you had assured Thorin of your resilience. But it was not just to reassure Bofur, Thorin, or anyone for that matter. You were also reassuring yourself that it was going to be alright. It had to be! You still had easily 50 years ahead of you and you were planning to exploit your final years to the fullest until death –preferably of old age- would claim you.

Bofur took a deep breath and extinguished his pipe. "I guess I have to take you on your word. I am sorry to have bothered you." The familiar cheeky grin appeared on his face again; setting his eyes alight.

"Good night," the dwarf whispered, and ruffled your hair before standing up and walking to his own bedroll.

You watched him lie down and pull the covers of his body. After a few silent moments of sitting there in the darkness, by yourself, you moved to follow his example. The blankets were warm and made your drift into a hazy state of mind. You were briefly aware of Thorin coming to bed after Eru know how long. He appeared to have seized his search, for now, and snuggled your back against his chest, pressing his face in your hair as he let sleep take over his restless mind.

However, sleep barely passed onto you that night. For your mind was too occupied with Bilbo, what would happen and if Bard –or the elves- would take the Arkenstone as a bargain. There was a lot depending of the little hobbit, but you had faith. Bilbo would make it work.

He had to.

The very next day you noticed had returned. However, you did not recall him coming back. Did sleep take you after all? At the break of dawn a messenger announced his presence; saying that the people of Laketown had set some negotiation terms and wanted to speak to Thorin. He allowed it, but only if they were unarmed and wore no armour.

And thus, Thorin's will was executed. A company of twenty, adorned with banners, set out on the road towards Erebor. Thorin met them in the pale afternoon light of the sun -that was desperately trying to shine through the thick grey clouds- with the other dwarves at his side. But everyone was surprised to see the Thranduil, the King of Mirkwood, had accompanied the humans. He had traded his gowns into silverish armour, which seemed to glow by its own.

A handsome, dark-haired human (presumably Bard), restrained his horse and looked up at the front gate of Erebor, where you, Thorin, Bilbo and the entire company stood. The prince beside you had crossed his arms and looked down upon the band of Elves and Men before his feet.

"Hail Thorin!" Bard yelled. "Have you not changed your mind about our proposition?"

"Have you not sent away the Elven army like I asked? Negotiations are futile until that time."

Thranduil moved a bit restless on his giant elk. The king opened and closed his mouth a few times, but eventually restrained himself to say anything. A smug grin appeared on Thorin's lips; seemingly enjoying the power that he now held of those humans and elves who thought to take away his treasure just like that. That would teach them.

"Is there nothing that would make you part with some of your gold?"

"Nothing that you can offer me."

"Not even the Arkenstone of Thraín?"

An old man, left of Bard, opened a heavy, iron clad chest. Within that chest was the Arkenstone, shining its weird, whitish light in even the faintest light. Thorin's eyes grew wide and you cocked an eyebrow at the precious gem. It was the most gorgeous thing you had even seen and it even made you feel a weird sense of longing settle in your gut; like you _had_ to touch it or hold it.

The brow of Thorin then furrowed and darkened. "That stone belonged to my father and my grandfather," his voice trembled with wrath. "Why should I buy something that is my heirloom and that you seemingly have stolen from me?"

"We are not thieves, if that is what you mean." Bard's voice was clear, authorative and fair. You saw the expression of indignation briefly cross the human's face as he spoke. "We shall give it back when you give us the gold that is rightfully ours now."

"Where did you get it!" Thorin suddenly snapped. His voice deep, loud and filled to the brim with anger. Then, Bilbo did something incredibly foolish, but honest; he confessed.

"I gave it to them!"

"You! You!" cried Thorin, turning upon him and grasping him with both hands. "You miserable hobbit! You undersized - burglar!" he shouted at a loss for words, and he shook poor Bilbo like a rabbit. Bilbo squeaked with fear and pain at the prince's strong grip.

"By the beard of Durin! I wish I had Gandalf here! Curse him for his choice of you! May his beard wither! As for you; I will throw you to the rocks!" he cried and lifted Bilbo in his arms.

"Thorin, **NO**-!"

"Stop your blubbering! Your wish is granted!" A voice suddenly boomed, overpowering your own dreading cry to prevent Thorin of throwing down the poor Hobbit down the Mountain. The old man that was next to Bard threw away his heavy robes and revealed himself to be Gandalf. His grey eyes were spitting fire as he looked up to Thorin, who still held the dreadful hobbit in his arms.

"Set the hobbit down, you fool! He is my burglar and I would hate to him damaged. As for you; you are making a fine example of King under the Mountain. I am gravely disappointed!" Gandalf bellowed, his deep and kind voice trembling with some anger.

"It seems you are all conspiring against me." Thorin grunted and dropped the hobbit, who rubbed his sore bum. "I don't want anything to do anymore with you wizards or their friends. Well? Do you have anything to say, you filthy, treacherous rat?"

"You alright?" You hastily muttered to the hobbit, who merely nod and walked up to Thorin; his eyes spitting fire and his brow furrowed.

"Rat? Perhaps you remember saying that I was free to take my own fifteenth share of the profit? Perhaps I have taken this too literal since people have told me that dwarves are often politer with words, than with deeds." Bilbo said whilst he was dusting his jacket. He took a sharp breath through his nose and continued; "Despite that the fact that you call me a _rat_, there seem to be a time that you have found me useful and appreciated my presence. Is this the honour that you and your family have promised me, Thorin? Consider it then that I have declined my fifteenth share willingly."

"Consider it done," Thorin growled. "And I will let you go, but hopefully we will never meet again!"

The prince briskly turned around, muttering about that people had misjudged him –about not able to part with the Arkenstone- and that he would prepare a fourteenth share of the treasure, with exception of the jewellery. He promised that the silver and gold would be arranged.

"Begon, if you want to live!"

You walked to Bilbo and placed a hand on his shoulders, squeezing it softly. "I will talk to him. Take care, Bilbo."

"Likewise."

Back inside Erebor Thorin paced around, his arms folded tightly on his back and his brow knitted together as his dark, raging eyes cursed everything that was on their path. He was furious, softly put. How dared the hobbit take away his heirloom and coo him in negotiations?! How dared that little rat indeed? The prince had sent the ravens to Daín, with the message that they should pick up the pace.

Everything was spinning out of control; Thorin had gone mad with rage, the company was practically leaderless and there was evidence that this would escalated quickly in a full scale world. Just for some gold.

"Thorin, I need to speak with you."

You had finally found the courage to speak with the prince. By now the sky was turning dark and Bilbo had been on your mind almost constantly. You needed to say something.

"Can it be some other time? I'm busy-"

"With moping about some useless stone?"

You had cruelly cut off his words with a sneer of your own. Thorin looked up, his bewildered eyes focussing on your own and took a strong step towards you. His shoulders were squared and his jaw clenched; he was tense. Despite his intimidating and dark physique, with his black manes ruffled and wild, you did not move. Instead of moving, you glared up at him and challenged him, which made the company around the two of you a bit restless.

"Useless stone you say? It's **mine**-!"

"And look what it's doing to you! You have changed into some rabid animal with nothing but that stone and gold on your mind! It was Bilbo's and _my_ plan to use the Arkenstone into forcing you to negotiate. You are practically starving us and for what? Your own stupid **pride**?!"

You were yelling by now. Releasing all kind of tension and worries that you had built up for the last month. "I am worried for you Thorin! Why can't you see that this is madness and just give everyone their share and live in peace? Where is the man that I would follow to the end of the world? Because I can't see him in the person standing in front of me."

Vigorously you wiped away the tears that threatened to fall down your cheeks. Thorin's eyes had softened just a bit and whispered "Ayne," when his hand reached out for you. The moment you felt his hand touch your shoulder, you turned on your heels and ran away. It wasn't because you didn't want him to touch you; it was because of the fact that he needed your words to sink in, without your presence. You took a gamble of saying everything what the other dwarves didn't.

You just hoped it was the right one.


	32. Chapter 32: War

**Author's notes: **I hoped it made it not too dramatic or cheesy; because I wanted to make it quite emotional. I hope I succeeded to make a perfect balance between overly dramatic and not-dramatic. I also decided not to go deep into the Arkenstone matter, because it would just be stretching and smearing out the story and that is unnecessary. I also wanted to throw something comical in Thorin's speech, but decided not to because that would disturb the ominous mood I was trying to settle :|

The next two chapters will be posted in one go. So it can take a little bit longer (or not; depends on the inspiration!).

I'll see you then! :salute:

(PS. Share your thoughts! I like to receive feedback!)

* * *

Chapter 32: War

A storm was brewing, and everyone knew it.

Dwalin had taken up to polish his weapons –and those of the other dwarves- once more, despite the fact that the blades were already as sharp as they could possibly be. Gloin and Oin were fidgeting around the fire, whispering with each other. Ori was furiously writing things down in an enormous thick book that he had found. His quill was scribbling away whilst his two brothers –Nori and Dori- were smashing some herbs together and smear it one their weapons.

'_Poison_,' you thought.

"We are really going to war, aren't we?" You quickly said to Thorin, who hastily walked passed you and started to follow him, trying to match his speed.

"We; a small band of fourteen dwarves, the People of Laketown, Elves of Mirkwood and the Dwarrow of Dain, against an army of Goblins –lead by Bolg, son of Azog- that is almost double the size of all our forces."

The more you explained the situation out loud, the more insane and foolish it sounded. How everyone was going to survive the night was oblivious to you. The company had heard of Dain's arrival -thanks to Roäc-, but also of the army of Goblins and Wargs coming their way in revenge of the death of their King; thanks to Gandalf. Dain had been quick to act and form an alliance with the elves and people of Laketown. Thorin was forced to participate; it was either that or die, so he had little choice but to say 'yes' and everyone armoured themselves underneath their clothing; including you.

"Thorin, stop for a moment, please."

You grabbed Thorin's strong shoulder, feeling the thick dwarven armour plates beneath his fur-lined coat, and finally caught his attention. The prince finally halted his strong and hasted stride. Thorin took a long and deep breath, before turning around and gently grasping your shoulders.

"I am sorry, Ayne, but I have urgent things to do." Thorin had whispered with an apologetic voice and wanted to tear himself away from you if it wasn't for your voice drawing him back in;

"I know you do, but I need to talk to you. This may be our last minute together if Aüle has disfavoured to us. Take a moment, that is all I beg of you," you whispered back whilst gently leading the restless prince to a place to sit. You sat down beside him, with your warm hands holding the prince's in your lap and stroked away a strand of silver out of his marred face.

"I want you to know that I understand why you want the Arkenstone; it's your heirloom and it is a sign to you that the dwarves still hold some power and influence of the world; something that you –no, _we_ have lost," you softly began. Your fingers laced through Thorin's hair.

The prince looked down at your hands entwined together on your lap and slowly looked up in your eyes as you spoke. He watched the small smile tucking at your lips and the dawning realization of the situation in your deep blue organs that granted you the ability of sight. He gently cupped your cheek with one of his hands and stroked its soft skin with a calloused thumb from years of labour and fighting.

"I don't care about that, not now at least. Not now war is on our doorstep and the hour to fight for our lives is approaching rapidly."

His gentle, baritone words stopped you. You took the time to examine his steel coloured eyes, and discovered that they held no sign of dark secrets, doubt or any other negative emotions. They were solemn, decisive and held absolutely no trace of fear. He was turning into the beacon that everyone followed, respected and would die to protect. Even you.

"I don't want you to fight."

Thorin leaned in and also cupped the other cheek when he pressed his forehead against your own. You closed your eyes and took in his sweet, oak and leather-like scent.

"I won't have others fight for me. Plus, I have swallowed so many painkillers that I wouldn't feel if my legs were chopped off, figuratively speaking of course," you chuckled softly and opened your eyes again. A smile pulled on your lips.

"I love you, Thorin Oakenshield. More than anything in the world, do you know that?"

Thorin placed a sweet, chaste kiss on your lips. "I would fight anything in the world to keep you safe," he whispered back tenderly.

Horns and bugles resonated through the mountain through the open front gates, alarming the company and the two of you. Thorin half-heartedly tore himself away from you and stood up, his back straight, chin up and his muscles bulging. You followed his example and pulled on your gauntlets.

"It's going to begin." Your voice rang almost ominous in your ears, it was that calm. Though inside, you were dreading –and eager- for the outcome. Thorin glanced at you, his eyes hard and serious now, but a small grin pulled at his thin and gorgeous lips.

"Search for me on the battlefield; together we would make those Goblins piss pants and wish that they have never come here."

"Promise you won't fall?" Thorin stepped closer to you and his breath fanned your lips.

"I won't, my love. It would take Eru himself to tear me away from you. Don't you ever forget."

With those words Thorin pulled you in a mind-blowing kiss that knocked all the air and ominous thoughts right out of your head. You pressed yourself against him as close as the armour that the two of you wore allowed. Your gauntleted hands shot in his hair, pulling him even closer towards you as his own hands pinned your hips tightly against his own.

All too soon, Thorin pulled away and unsheathed Orcrist and his trustworthy battle axe. With renowned courage you followed his example and pulled out your sword and shield –with the emblem of Erebor- only to see that the other members of the company had also pulled out his weapons. It was only sad that Bilbo wasn't amongst them.

"My company –no, my friends, tonight a battle is there to be fought. A battle of fate. It may seem foolish, or hopeless, to even think of fighting the enormous Goblin army that is coming our way despite the aid of our allies. But we are going to anyway. For our legacy, our treasures, our _home_. They may think of us of _puny_ dwarves that are willing to throw our lives away, and we are! But we are damn **proud** of it and we are going to show them that _puny_ dwarves can kick them back from the filthy holes from which they came from!"

Thorin's grey eyes looked around the company that had followed him loyal throughout this journey. His voice was strong, authorative, but inspiring as he spoke to them; boasting their courage with well-chosen words. Each member of the company seemed to grow with each word that he spoke. They squared their shoulders, held their weapons tightly in their fists and a grin appeared on their faces.

"Are you ready to kick some goblin ass?!" Thorin roared.

"Aye!"

"I can't hear you! Tell me, are you ready to kick some goblin ASS?!"

The prince's voice echoed through every fibre of your being and you couldn't help but to shout on the top of your lungs. Thorin had raised Orcrist high in the air and waved with every word and straightened his strong back. The company met his sword with each of their own weapon and yelled –with Fili and Kili a bit louder than the rest- as one being;

"**AYE!**"

"YES! THAT'S IT! Let's give those Goblins a taste of some good dwarven metal! ONWARD!"

With that the company departed from the save halls of Erebor and met the storm, thunder and rain of the outside world. Dain had organized things quite strategically. The archers at the back, tanks in the front and other infantry ready to back them up. The rain was cold and sharp in your face, numbing the skin in mere minutes and making some stray strand stick to your face like glue.

Foreign horns resonated through the air, only to be deafened by ear shattering lightening that forked the sky and lit up everyone's faces in milliseconds. You glanced around, trying to find a face of someone of the company, but they weren't anywhere near your spot on the front line.

Suddenly, your attention was drawn by gasps and curses from your fellow dwarves and human's next to you. Your sharp eyes looked on ahead and dread fell deeply in your stomach. A thick, black, formless and screeching front line of Goblins and Wargs ran down the hill towards you. Hastily, you put on a helmet of the finest dwarven make and took out your tall, broad shield that was capable to make even a human disappear behind it.

You glanced over the edge, your sword arm raised and the tip of your blade resting on the top of your shield, ready to thrust it forward. In a second lightening flash, you swore to see the majestic outlines of a very familiar dwarf; his chin held high and his long black manes sticking to his gorgeous, but scarred face.

'_Thorin_.'

The Goblins and Wargs approached rapidly, and the rustle of armour next and behind you, indicated that everyone was making themselves ready. Your nostrils flared with each deep intake of oxygen as you made your body ready for battle whilst the wind was rushing over the scorched planes and pulled vigorously on the banners of Elf, Man and Dwarf.

A shield settled against your back when the meters between you –the frontline- and the army of beasts disappeared. The shield was there to keep you on your feet when the whole force of the goblin army collided against your shield in mere minutes. A boar spear settled on your shoulder, ready to thrust into the advisories' head should they come into range.

'_Bifur_.'

The Goblins screeched and yelled, their eyes wide with adrenaline as their Wargs leaped over the terrain. You could see the sick-looking veins popping in their eyes and the oozing warts on their skins. Then, hell broke loose.

They collided with an enormous force into the frontline. A grunt escaped your throat when you were pushed flat against the shield of the person behind you, but you kept on your feet. The boar spear of Bifur thrusted out and retracted multiple times. The dwarf behind you, started to push you against the enemy line. With a few strong swings of your sword the pressure against your shield seized momentarily, only to return in less than a second as the Goblin's kept on coming.

That had to change.

With a roar that came from the tip of your iron clad toes, you bashed your shield against the goblins and pushed back. With a scooping motion, you managed to break the enemy line and was able to take a step forward. The goblin's tried to rush against your shield once more, but you would have it. Instead you now managed to push back and cut down a few Goblins whilst doing so.

The battle was beyond any words. You saw dwarf, man and elf fall, but also prevail as they cut off the heads, limbs or pierce the Goblins and their beast-like steeds. You were so engulfed in battle that you almost had no time to look for your fellow company members. Every face of the company flashed in front of your mind's eye when you slid open the abdomen of a particular large Goblin and bashed him on the ground with your blood-smeared shield.

You jumped over the desolated corpse of an elf, ignoring the faint throbbing of your lower back, and thrusted your sword in the mouth of a roaring Warg in front of you. It gagged for a moment and fell to the ground. With a grunt you pulled your blade out of its gaping mouth and looked a bit disgusted at the thick, dark blood coating it.

The helmet you wore was knocked off, bearing your pale face to the onslaught of the skies and the battle around you. Blood splatters of any kind of creature adorned your pale skin like freckles, but you cared not. For your eyes were glancing around and finally caught sight of a familiar face! Then fear grabbed your heart in an iron grip when the looming silhouette of Bolg appeared behind him!

"Thorin!"

Your voice roared, but could not rise above the thunder, rain and the sound of weapons clashing. In slow-motion; you saw Bolg raise arm and thrust his sword through Thorin's armour from behind. The prince gasped, his eyes wide and blood-coating his lips.

No! No! Please, **NO**!

"Thorin! Thorin!" Your voice had pitched and was filled with panic.

You hacked and slashed your way through the Goblins that dared to stand between you and Thorin. You cared not of you harmed any of your own allies, because there was only one goal that kept you going right now; you had to get to Thorin! NOW!

Fili and Kili rushed to their uncle's aid when he was thrown on the blood-drenched soil. They managed to kill Bolg, but arrows caught them on vital places. You saw that they fought like lions, despite the arrows that pierced through their chest and backs. Suddenly, a particular nasty and large Goblin blocked your way.

"Get out of the way! OUT OF THE WAY!" You screamed on the top of your soar lungs.

Your lower back soared with pain, nearly crippling you, when the wicked sword of the Goblin collided with your own. Your shield was torn from your grasp and thrown away. The Goblin pushed your body back; his rotting teeth bare because of an insane grin and managed to get you off balance.

The sick feeling of a blade slicing through you numbed everything around you and slowed the world down. You looked down, only to see the handle of the sword stick out of your chest cavity. You took a deep breath, but only tasted blood on your lips. The feeling in your legs disappeared, sending you down your knees and forcing your eyes to meet the lifeless ones of a particular one dwarf.

A whizzing sound went passed you. Followed by the sound of it piercing in something and the gurgling noise of the Goblin above you. A few more whizzing sounds graced your features and something large fell on the ground, adding to the bodies littering the ground. Voices screamed in your ear, but you did not hear them.

Instead your eyes looked on ahead and watched Fili and Kili fall down, a few meters away of where Thorin was still lying, but moving. You had to get there. You had to get to Thorin, protect him. Meanwhile, the rain had stopped and the clouds slowly dissipated; only to make way of a brightening sky.

You tried to force your legs to move, and they did. Wobbly and out of balance, with the odd sensation of the cold blade sticking in your chest and the warm blood coating it, you managed to take a few steps. White hot pain surged through your body, but you tried to ignore despite the buckling of your knees because of it.

Tears left clean streaks over your bloody and dirty face. The taste and scent of blood was heavy on your tongue and sharp in your nose each time you forced your legs to move. But they couldn't go any further and collapsed underneath you, causing your body to fall to the ground. The left and smeared cheek of yours rested on the cold and wet soil. Wet from what, you didn't want to know.

Darkness stung at the edge of your vision and something light and warm settled in your head. Was this it? Was this the end? You weren't ready to die; you needed to get to Thorin! Then, an odd screeching sound pulled at everyone's attention. You forced yourself to look up, one final time and received glimpses of large, flying birds with powerful wings and sharp talons.

'_Eagles.._'

And with that final thought, all energy drained out of your body and everything went black


	33. Chapter 33: Farewell

**Author's Notes:** MY FEELS! ;_;

I think it's fair to say that I was crying whilst writing this chapter. I wanted to pay _some_ attention to Fili and Kili's and death. For they were fine good pals. I am so going to bawl my eyes out when There and Back Again comes out.. T_T

[1] The song I used is; Song of the Exile from the King Arthur soundtrack. I edited the last verse because it fitted better that way. I also suggest listening to _Ashes Remain - Right Here._

* * *

__Chapter 33: Farewell  
_  
_Bliss and darkness was all that greeted you. It was so black.. that it wasn't even black anymore.

It was familiar.__

'Is this it? Am I dead now?' you thought and tried to blink, but nothing happened. You looked around, or at least thought that you looked around, but you didn't feel the pull of your eye muscles that directed the organs in the direction your brain wanted.

Then, a gush of sharp, fresh air of oxygen rushed in your lungs and your eyelids fluttered. Light rushed through the small skin folds and into your iris. The small receptors on your retina were overloaded and instinctively you shut your eyelids for a moment and took a deep breath once more.

A dull pain thumped inside your chest, making it hard to take long and deep inhales of oxygen and only intensified with each motion of your chest. A metallic taste was heavy on your tongue and only grew heavier with each passing minute. Slowly you reopened your eyes and quickly adjusted to the soft light on the linen above you.

Wait, linen?

A tent.

Your heavy mind cleared just a bit and sharp flashbacks of Thorin falling, Fili and Kili, arrows and a particular nasty Goblin thrusting a sword in your chest flashed before your eyes. You tried to sit up, but a white hot pain made you gasp hard and sharp, causing blood to squirt on your blood; turning them into crimson.

Instantly someone darted inside your tent and sat down at your side with quick, but not hasty, movements. It was a human, moreover; it was a wizard. It was Gandalf.

"Ah, you are awake," the wizard hushed softly with a gentle voice. You saw his eyes rake over your form and you briefly noticed that you were still wearing all of your armour. You also noticed that one of his arms was in a sling. It appeared that even the wizard had not left the battle unscathed. "I did not believe that you would."

"W-what," you slowly began; surprised of how weak your voice sounded and how much effort it took to speak. "What happened? Have we won? How is Thorin, Fili and Kili? Are they alive? Tell me they are alive!"

You did not care the least of the white hot pain surging through your chest and making blotches of black appear in your vision. You felt strangely out of breath despite you tried to breath in as deeply as possible. Unbeknownst to you; with each breath blood leaked out of your gaping wound that was once hugging a thick and steel Goblin blade tightly.

"The war is won, but with great casualties; you are gravely wounded by a Goblin blade and are bleeding quite ferociously, Fili and Kili have perished in defending their uncle, but Thorin is.." the wizard paused for a moment. "Thorin is dying. His wounds are too great."

If your face could pale anymore, it now certainly did. Tears stung at the corner of your eyes and a cry that have never even thought about passing your lips, now surely did. You cried and cried, at first first out loud but then silently as you swallowed the screams of dread leaving your lips. All this time that tears leaked out of your eyes, causing your head to throb and your skin to blotch, Gandalf stayed next to you; his hand on your armoured shoulder and gently rubbing it.

"What about my wounds?" You finally croaked after a while with a thick voice, as a particular nasty needle of pain made your jaw to clench tightly in pain.

"The sword piercing your right lung. We must wait for the elves and see if they can treat you, if they cannot; you will eventually bleed to death. That is why your head feels so thick, your skin pale and your breathing is so shallow," Gandalf's soft words were.

So even Gandalf couldn't save you if the elves couldn't. You weren't afraid of death, for you felt like you were already balancing on the edge. For a moment you closed your eyes and revelled in the darkness from behind your lids. When you opened them after a minute or two, Gandalf was still looking at you; his dark grey eyes soft and gentle.

"I want to see him. I need to see, Thorin."

-

You had insisted on walking on your own, but Gandalf said that you were too weak to even try. Two humans from Laketown, marred with nasty wounds here and there but injured not too badly, came in and supported you when you 'walked' (more like stumbled) out of your tent. You couldn't help but to open and close your mouth as words died on your tongue.

The chaos was enormous. Not to mention the smell.

Bodies of all races were lying everywhere. In the misty morning light you could see the silhouettes of Man, Elf and Dwarf drag themselves across the field; looking for survivors, valuables or kin. All the humans, dwarves and elves were taken to piles and burned or buried ceremoniously with chants and prayers, whilst the Goblins were thrown onto giant heaps and set alight.

You were brought to one of the other tents. Members of your company stood up as they watched you approach, but their faces paled by the seeing your condition; gravely wounded and practically immobile. Bofur and Ori rushed to you, their words of worry and half-hearted relief –and gentle touches- passed you by like the fresh morning breeze gracing your filthy cheeks. Over their shoulder, you spotted two bodies lying between the tents with blankets draped over their bodies.

It were Fili and Kili.

"Take me to them," you whispered.

Carefully you kneeled at the heads of the bodies and with trembling, awfully pale hands you carefully pulled away the blankets. Instantly; hot tears streamed down your cheeks, for Fili and Kili were lying next to each other with closed eyes and small smile tugging at their lips. They fought to the bitter end and died like warriors. Blood and dirt still stained their beautiful hair and peaceful faces, but no one dared to washed it off for it was the proof of how bravely they fought in defending their uncles.

It wasn't fair.

But life isn't made to be fair.

You bowed down; your trembling lips kissing each of their foreheads as tears splashed on their cold, marble skin and whispered; "I am proud of you guys. So young and yet so brave. I wish you luck in the afterlife, my dear Fili and Kili. May Aüle guide your way."

Bofur helped your stand and pulled you into a hug, his face on top of your own and held you for a while as you cried on his shoulder. After a few moments you pulled away a bit and recollected yourself. "Thorin, I need to see Thorin," you croaked softly.

The dwarves carefully led your inside the tent of the prince. He was lying on a bed, pale and breathing shallow. You kneeled at his, holding back a cough that riled your body and made blood leak at the corners of your mouth. Darkness stung at the edges of your vision, but you kept them open and refused to shut them despite the heavy feeling inside your head. Thorin's gorgeous eyes opened when you gently took his large, dirty, and calloused hand into your own. They were as cold as ice.

"Ayne," he weakly uttered. It brought tears to your eyes once again. "You are alive, how? I watched your chest being pierced and-" The prince stopped as his eyes trailed to the oozing wound on your chest. A grave sigh left his lips, but you gently smiled at him with moist eyes as your dirty hand ran through his black manes and gently stroked some stray strands out of his pale face.

"Thorin, I'm here now with you and will hold you when the sky falls down upon us this very moment. What happens next is of no importance," you weakly whispered for you could not talk aloud. Not now the energy was draining from you like a leech was sucking blood. You were sure that Thorin could sense it and stared up to the linen of the tent above your head.

"Don't leave me, please?"

Carefully you moved and laid down next to him, curling your arms around you as tears made clear streaks across your bloodied and dirty face. You felt the pain in your chest increase, but tried to ignore it despite the tensing of your body. Your head started to throb thickly and slowly become a bit hazy because of the blood loss that you were experiencing, but you were willing to endure everything right now at the moment. Anything for Thorin, your king.

"Never. I will stay with you to the very end."

Someone entered the tent with soft patting of bare feet; it was Bilbo. He kneeled down next to the two of you and glanced over your battered bodies. Thorin's gorgeous grey eyes tried to focus on the hobbit, but they merely saw a blotched figure that looked like him.

"Hobbit.. it seems that I was wrong all this time and I apologize for my cruel words," Thorin began slowly and coughed. You hushed the dwarf softly and looked up at him with gentle and knowing eyes; the end was near. "There is more good in you than you might know, child of the West. May life treat you kindly."

Bilbo nodded firmly with a quivering bottom lip and small tears rolling down his smooth and rosy cheeks. You felt Thorin's hand weakly close around your own and clutch the appendage as his breathing became shallower than before. You took a breath and started to sing; softly, hoarse, but soothing to let him know that he was not alone;__

"Land of bear and  
Land of eagle  
Land that gave us birth and blessing  
Land that pulled us ever homewards  
We will go home across the mountains

We will go home, we will go home  
We will go home, across the mountains  
We will go home, we will go home  
We will go home, singing our song

Hear our singing,  
Hear our longing  
We will go home across the mountains

We are home, we have come home  
We are home, at the mountains  
We are home, we have come home  
We are home, we are – home."[1]

Thorin's breathing had stopped. Life had drained out of his once so strong body when the soft worlds rolled over your lips and finally ended. You hiccupped of the tears that blocked your throat. You leaned up and cupped his cold cheeks with both of your hands when you pressed your forehead against his home.

You remembered his cold, hard gaze in the beginning. You remembered his distrust towards you, and how that slowly grew into love. You remembered those nights spent within his strong and warm embrace and the fighting beside him. He was your one and only and will never be forgotten; not if you could help him. Leaning further up, you pressed your lips thickly against his forehead; leaving a crimson smear in their wake.

"Good bye, Thorin, my love. The righteous King Under the Mountain and the beacon of hope of all. I love you.."

Your eyes met those of Bilbo, who's were probably just as bloodshot as your own. "Mr. Baggings. Can you promise something?" Your voice weakly croaked.

The hobbit swallowed thickly and nodded. His voice just as hoarse as your own, but certainly not weak; "Anything."

"Can you promise me that he would never be forgotten or lost in time? Can you tell everyone about him and his good deeds? Can you do that? Please?"

"I.. I promise."


	34. Chapter 34: Epilogue (END)

**Author's Notes: **Well this is it. The end.

I knew that this moment would come, yet I feel sad that it's time.

I will answer two questions that might burn on your mind right now;  
1. Yes, I will probably write a LOTR fic in the future. No, Ayne won't be in it, but mentioned perhaps. Next fic will be about North&South, so if you are interested keep an eye out ;)  
2. What happened with Ori, Balin, Oin and Dwalin is true. The rest is made up because I thought everyone needed a proper ending that they deserved.

Thank you for commenting, reviewing, faving, following or just be a silent ghost reader. Thank you, and good bye.

:salute:

* * *

Chapter 34: Epilogue (END)

It was over.

The quest for the Lonely Mountain has ended.

With Thorin's, Fili's and Kili's death the line of their own family died, but not that of Durin. Daín, son of Naín, had taken up the title of the King of The Lonely Mountain after the funeral of the rightful heirs. Erebor would thrive underneath his reign, as he would restore the order, glory and its prowess in all kind of fashions that it deserved. Erebor was to be well known throughout the eastern wilderness and amongst the dwarves of Blue and Iron Hills.

But what happened to the company?

Bilbo had returned to the Shire, guided by Beorn and Gandalf. He had taken Bofur's 'long term deposit' from the trolls – and a small portion of the gold and silver of the Mountain- to Bag End and lived there in wealth and writing down his adventures. Embedding Thorin in his many stories for he promised that. Little did he know that the little golden ring he had stolen from Gollum would land in the hands of his nephew Frodo; but that is a story for another time.

Gloin settled in Erebor, functioning as one of the finest warriors that it had ever seen. His wife and Gimli also established there; unknowing that their son Gimli would grow out to be a fine warrior, like his father, and play a significant role in the War of the Ring; that would take place about sixty years later.

Oin, Ori and Balin had flocked together as a group. They did many expeditions later together. Forty-eight years later, they would travel to Moria -in order to try and reclaim it- with a large band of other dwarves. They were overrun and slaughtered by the goblins dwelling there. Balin was honoured in the tomb that Gimli would mourn about many years later. Ori was the one that wrote a journal of what was happening and Gandalf would read aloud to the Fellowship of the Ring. The near-deaf Oin had met a horrid fate in the belly of the Watcher of the Water, when he and several other dwarves tried to take their chances and escape.

Dwalin, Nori and Dori, returned to the Iron Hills and settled down. It was said that Dwalin got married and fathered seven sons and three daughters. Nori and Dori couldn't stay in the Iron Hills for long, for the lust to wander and adventure was thick in their veins. They were never to be seen again.

Bifur, Bofur and Bombur had settled in Erebor for a short while, only to return to the Blue Hills where Bofur started mining again, his cousin Bifur set up a toyshop, and his brother Bombur founded a pub called The Company where Bofur would tell mad tales in the evening hours. Mostly about a strong woman that he had met and was beautiful unlike any other being that he had seen.

Remember the small statue that he was carving throughout the journey? That small statue was you. The travellers that visited the Company asked about the small likeness of you adorning the mantelpiece above the central fireplace. Bofur would only sit down with a pipe between his lips and tell them this with a merry voice;

"Some claimed that she died and was buried next to Thorin under the mountain; her love. Some said, that she had deserted the company just before the battle and was now living a solitary life. Some claimed that she had survived the battle by the aid of the elves and now served Daín as head advisor and general. Then again, others boasted about seeing dear Ayne drinking and singing here in The Company, whilst others said that they have met her on the road as she was probably visiting old friends."

No other explanation from your disappearance was drawn from his lips, much to the chagrin of the travellers and lads that listened to every story of you that Bofur told them.

But, what did happen to you, indeed?

That is up to you, really.

But the ending is not important. For it matters not what road we take, but rather what we become on the journey.

You are Ayne, daughter of Aynúr. You were called a betrayer, a friend, a lover, and so much more.

And this is your story.


End file.
